


Flight Into Egypt:  Doing It Right

by Vickiemoseley



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-17
Updated: 2004-05-17
Packaged: 2019-08-01 19:17:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16290254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vickiemoseley/pseuds/Vickiemoseley
Summary: It's been two years since they left their





	Flight Into Egypt:  Doing It Right

**Author's Note:**

> I'm doing what I swore I would

Title: Flight Into Egypt: Doing It Right  
Author: Vickie Moseley  
Summary: It's been two years since they left their   
old lives behind and arrived in Alexandria, MT.   
There have been big changes in the Hale (Mulder)   
household, but there are dark clouds on the horizon.   
Back home, the search for the truth continues.  
Category: MSR, A, Mytharc  
Rating: PG   
Disclaimer: I'm delving a bit more into the 'new'   
mytharc, but I'm still not making any money. No   
copyright infringement intended.  
Archive: Yes  
Date first posted: May 17, 2004  
SPECIAL NOTE: I'm doing what I swore I would   
never do -- I'm posting a Work in Progress. I have a   
plan, the story is complete in my head and outlined   
on paper. In short, I will not leave you hanging. I'll   
be posting it in 10 parts, one part each week for the   
next couple of months. For a few weeks, you can   
only find the parts on Ephemeral and on Dana K   
Scully's sites in Brazil (did I mention this is an   
international WIP?) In a few weeks, I'll have all the   
parts that have been posted on my website. Just   
don't yell at me if you don't find them there   
immediately. If you are like me, and want to wait   
for the whole story before starting it, I'm cool with   
that. It should be finished July 18.   
This is being 'simulcast' in Portuguese because   
Dana was sweet enough to offer. Hugs, Dana!  
Straight jackets can be forwarded to   
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com. Prayers for my   
sanity greatly appreciated.

 

Flight into Egypt: Doing it Right  
by Vickie Moseley

May 19, 2004  
Arlington National Cemetery  
12:30 am

The day was bright, the gentle breeze came off the   
river and danced around the white stones standing   
like humble sentries over the bodies of those lying   
at rest. The trees were finally in full leaf, the   
blossoms of the azaleas were dipping and bending   
in the breeze in the planters near the gates. It was   
spring, the smells, the feel of the air, all things   
spoke of a reawakening. But in some hearts, there   
was little reason to feel joyful. 

Walter Skinner stood a respectful distance and   
solemnly bowed his head, ever mindful of the tears   
of the woman standing next to him.

"I just wish . . ." The quiet air was broken by the   
raspy whisper which caught on the breeze and   
caressed his ear before dancing among the white   
and bronze monuments at their feet.

He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Mrs.   
Scully," he said and then wondered why he'd even   
bothered to speak. He had no words of comfort or   
solace. For his part, he didn't know if the   
headstones at their feet were accurate or just another   
part of the jigsaw puzzle of lies and deceits that   
continued to rule his life.

Maggie Scully shook her head, wiping the tears   
from her cheeks. "They're together. Either here or   
somewhere else, I know they're together. If that's   
all I have, I have to be satisfied with that."

"I'm so sorry," Skinner mumbled, not daring to clear   
his throat for fear if the lump was dislodged, it   
would lead to a dam break of emotions.

She smiled up at him and for a fleeting second, he   
saw her daughter in her eyes. "I know you are, Mr.   
Skinner. I want you to know how much I   
appreciate you coming here with me today. I just   
didn't want this day to go unnoticed. It's the only   
connection I have with them. Except this." She   
fingered the locket at her neck, not needing to open   
it to know the three pictures the tiny frames held.   
Dana, little William and Fox. The images   
painstakingly carved out of larger photographs to fit   
in the locket and be her constant companion.

"It's the least I could do, Mrs. Scully," he rasped.

She smiled again and patted his arm. "It's time you   
got back to the office." She started toward her car,   
parked just yards away on the road winding through   
Arlington National Cemetery.

He didn't follow immediately. Instead he looked   
down at the headstones, knowing they were nothing   
more than memorial tributes to the agents he hadn't   
seen in exactly two years. It had been a fight to get   
one of the stones in place, politics and conspiracy   
dueling it out only to be placated by an innocuous   
memorial resolution at the hands of one US Senator.   
But it was only fitting that the two stones sit side by   
side, in this hallowed place.

Dana Scully  
Fox Mulder

Special Agents, Fallen in the Line of Duty.

Skinner closed his eyes and let a prayer float   
silently toward the cloudless May sky. If he could   
only find the answers.

 

St. Peter's Hospital  
Helena, MT  
same day  
12:30 pm

"Push, Dana! One more, push!" the doctor shouted   
from behind her surgical mask. "C'mon, you've   
done this once today already, this should be a   
breeze!"

"I think, -- pant, hufff -- this one -- pant -- is bigger!"   
Dana gritted out through clenched teeth.

"Five pounds, four ounces, Mrs. Hale," said the   
nurse standing near the warming bed. "Nineteen   
and a half inches long and lots of strawberry blond   
hair." In the warmer lay a squalling red-faced   
infant, already wrapped in a bright pink blanket. 

"Get ready, Ellery. This one will be faster," the   
doctor warned. Fox Mulder looked over the   
draping at his partner of eleven years and tried to   
smile with his eyes. In reality, he was scared   
shitless.

"You're doing fine," the nurse closest to the head of   
the bed assured Dana, who was panting and sweaty,   
as red faced as their newborn daughter. 

"I thought we discussed -- pant -- a C-section   
\-- pant --," Dana huffed out between her breaths.

"Yes, we did," the doctor agreed. "And I firmly   
remember someone telling me they wanted to do   
this 'the old fashioned way'. I even put it in my   
notes."

"Next time -- huff, pant -- _he_ doesn't get a vote!"   
Dana said with a glare at the man now seated   
between her legs. 

"Hey, no fair picking on the dad," Mulder heard the   
nurse beside him tell the assembled masses. "He's   
been doing his part."

So far his part had been to catch their first daughter   
and cut the umbilical cord. That should have been   
the end of it. But never one to do anything easily,   
his partner had surprised him when she'd announced   
early in her pregnancy that the doctor thought she   
might be carrying twins. A sonogram confirmed   
the suspicion and now Mulder was being pressed   
into service for the second time that day to help   
deliver their other daughter into the world.

"One more big one, Dana and this is all over," the   
doctor assured her.

"Unless there's another hiding in there," Mulder   
muttered and caught Scully's eyes. In spite of   
herself, she grinned. 

"You better hope not," she warned him. And then   
she drew in all her breath and pushed with all her   
might. The tiny crown of blood-slicked hair soon   
became a full head and face. The doctor's voice   
was reminding him to turn the baby to deliver the   
shoulders, but Mulder was ahead of the game and   
didn't need direction. The only thought on his mind   
was that this was the most extreme possibility he   
would ever encounter -- that he and Scully had   
helped create not just one incredible life together,   
but now three lives. He couldn't stop the tears that   
flowed freely down his face as the baby slipped into   
his gloved hands and he held her tenderly in his   
arms.

"Oh, god, Scu -- " He caught his words just in time.   
"Sweetheart," he amended. "She's beautiful." The   
nurse had taken the baby and was handing him a set   
of clamps and a pair of scissors. He applied the   
clamps as he'd been instructed and snipped the cord,   
separating his daughter from his lover's womb.   
"Oh, god, they're so beautiful," he whispered again. 

"My turn, Ellery," the doctor said cheerfully. "Why   
don't you four get acquainted while I finish up down   
here," she said and Mulder moved out of the seat   
he'd occupied to give the obstetrician room to work. 

"Number two is five pounds, _six_ ounces," another   
nurse called out from the scale. "And 20 inches   
long."

"So they aren't identical," Mulder said as he cradled   
Scully and the first of the twins.

"Identical is the genetic make up, love. The weights   
can vary by a few ounces," Dana said with a tired   
smile. "Hey, there, sweetheart!" she cooed to the   
baby in her arms. "It's about time I got to hold you.   
See Daddy? Do you see your Daddy standing   
there?" The infant had her gaze locked on Mulder's   
mask-covered face. He reached out his gloved   
finger and the neonate grabbed it in her fist, giving   
it a firm squeeze. 

"She's strong," Mulder commented through shining   
eyes. 

"Here's number two, Dad," the nurse said and   
handed him the second baby, also wrapped in a pink   
blanket, but this one was imprinted with tiny white   
bunnies. "What are the names of these future Miss   
Americas?"

Mulder looked over at Scully and she looked back,   
worried expression firmly in place. "We don't have   
names yet," she said apologetically.

"Actually, we have too many names," Mulder   
amended. "We're just having some trouble   
narrowing the field."

"Our son wasn't named until he was three days old,"   
Scully explained. "We sort of like to get used to   
them first."

Mulder held the second infant out to Scully and   
with apparently practiced ease, they switched so   
that Mulder was holding the first baby in his arms   
while Scully cradled the other child on her chest.   
The second baby immediately began rooting for a   
breast. "Well, this one seems to have her father's   
instincts," Scully said dryly.

"Thanks. Now these woman all think I'm a sex   
maniac," Mulder shot back.

"Three kids under five years of age," said one nurse.   
"You do the math." The room dissolved into   
giggles and chuckles.

"Hey, I can't be held responsible if the last two   
came as a matched set," Mulder tried to keep some   
dignity in his voice by failed miserably.

"Listen up, people," said the doctor, standing so she   
could be both seen and heard. "Let's get these nice   
folks down to recovery, where Mom can try nursing   
a bit. Then we'll take these young ladies down to   
the newborn nursery and I think there's a big brother   
waiting to see them."

In the recovery room, the nurse was very   
accommodating. "You guys are a little too early,"   
she announced as she helped Scully settle in the bed   
and handed one baby to her, then the other to   
Mulder. "Next fall we open the maternity center   
and then you'll be able to stay in one room, and Dad   
can even stay the night in there if he wants."

"We just didn't think it was worth it to hold off on   
delivering them till the grand opening," Mulder said   
dryly. The nurse gave him a curious look and then   
broke into laughter. 

"Oh, a joker, are you? I'll have to keep an eye on   
you. Now, here's the phone, you can make all the   
long distance calls you want, they'll be billed to   
your room. Don't worry, we don't charge motel   
rates -- "

"Maybe a hotel on the lower East side of   
Manhattan," Mulder muttered and Scully shot him a   
'be good' look.

"Oh, you!" yelped the nurse and shook her head at   
him. "Anyway, now might be a good time to call   
all those 'Grandmas and Grandpas' and tell them   
about the new arrivals. The ones who aren't in the   
waiting room with your other little boy, of course."

"Those are friends out there," Scully said tensely.   
Mulder reached out his hand to grasp hers. He   
could almost read her thoughts. She wanted more   
than anything to reach out to that phone and dial a   
very familiar number in Baltimore, Maryland, but   
they both knew that was impossible.

Just as she had in the delivery room, the second   
baby showed an uncanny ability to latch on to the   
breast and was soon sucking happily, then fell off to   
sleep. The older of the two seemed uninterested in   
eating, was more inclined to take in every thing   
around her. 

"We have a pragmatist and a dreamer, Woman," he   
said affectionately as he kissed his partner. "We are   
in so much trouble!"

She laughed and the morose spell was broken, for a   
moment. The sadness in her eyes couldn't be erased   
for long.

"We'll be able to contact her, someday, my love. I   
promise," he told her solemnly, and she nodded her   
head, trying to hold back the tears that threatened.   
"Oh, Scully," he whispered and gathered her to him   
as much as the hospital bed and the two infants   
would allow. "I know it's hard."

"I just miss her so much," Dana sobbed. "I wish we   
could just get some word to her, somehow."

"I know, I know," Mulder crooned, stroking her   
hair. "I'll work on it."

"We can't, Mulder," she whispered hoarsely. "Now,   
more than before, we can't! If 'they' found out   
about the twins and where William is -- "

"Shhh, don't get all upset," he whispered, kissing   
the crown of her head and rubbing her shoulders   
and the base of her neck, the fastest way on earth to   
relax her, as he'd become very aware during this   
most recent pregnancy. "It doesn't look like it now,   
but you know how quickly things change."

"That's what I've afraid of," she hissed back, more   
tears falling down her cheeks. "We have a perfect   
life right now. I'm so afraid we're going to lose it."

The nurse came back, seeing the tears. "Hey, hey,   
it's OK," she cooed, collecting both babies into their   
assigned bassinets. "I think Mom needs a nap. It   
was a long delivery, from what I've heard and   
you've been up all night. Dad, you could lie down a   
bit, too, before we're scraping you up off the   
pavement. You aren't here by yourself, are you?"

"No, we have friends and our three year old son out   
in the family lounge," Mulder said, helping Scully   
settled down in the bed. "Taking a nap does sound   
like a good idea, huh, love?" he murmured as he   
lowered the head of the bed so she could rest   
comfortably.

"It feels so weird," Scully mumbled sleepily. "I   
can't remember the last time I got to sleep on my   
back."

"Well, I remember at least one time, about 9 months   
ago," Mulder whispered in her ear and got the smile   
he hoped to receive.

"shut up," she mumbled and swatted ineffectually in   
the direction of his arm. "Go show William his   
baby sisters."

He leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips.   
"I'll be back later, when you wake up." He was   
pretty sure she hadn't heard him because she was   
already asleep.

Family Lounge  
1:45 pm

Mulder blearily made his way down the hall in the   
direction the desk nurse had pointed. They'd   
arrived at the hospital at the ungodly hour of 2:15   
am and from the moment they'd hit the door, there   
had been some kind soul acting as his guide. He   
was eternally grateful to his new employer, Carroll   
College, for allowing them to move into an   
apartment previously reserved for unmarried faculty   
members for the last month of Dana's pregnancy.   
They had missed their mountain hideaway in   
Alexandria, but driving the deserted streets of   
Helena for only six blocks after Dana's water broke   
at 2 in the morning was a lot easier than the 30   
miles from their home. Now, once Dana and the   
girls had a chance to rest, they would be moving   
back home just in time for summer.

He found the family lounge, but it was deserted. He   
was just about to ask if he had the right one when he   
turned and ran right into MC Hawthorne, carrying   
an unopened bottle of soda.

"Ellery! My gosh, you scared me! Are they here?"   
MC asked anxiously, leading him into the homey   
lounge. A big screen television showed a baseball   
game. Mulder was having a hard time   
concentrating on anything and the pitch on the set   
made for a pleasant distraction.

"Ellery? Dana . . . the babies . . . delivery?" MC   
asked again patiently this time. She was getting a   
bemused expression on her face at his inability to   
speak, or connect to the world around him.

"Oh, come here," she directed in mild disgust.   
"Sit," she ordered. Amazingly, he sat. "Drink this,"   
she said, handing him the soda. Like an automaton,   
he unscrewed the cap and drank half the contents,   
preceding to release a good portion of the CO2 back   
in the atmosphere in the form of a window-shaking   
belch. MC shook her head in exasperation, then   
stood directly between him and the ball game.   
"Now, then, how is everyone?"

He looked up at her and recognition hit. "MC," he   
said, as if she'd just entered the room. Then, more   
realization took place. He looked frantically around   
the lounge. "Where's Will?"

"Relax, Dad," MC said with a laugh. "Joe took him   
to McDonald's. They're at the playland. I told them   
I'd call as soon as there was news. So, is there   
news?"

"Oh, god, yes," Mulder said, smacking his head.   
"I'm sorry. I'm just a little out of it. Yes, everyone   
is fine, just fine. First one was born at just a little   
past 12 and the second one came along about 12:30.   
Five pounds four ounces, 19 and half inches, and   
five pounds, six and 20 inches. Strawberry blond   
hair, once they cleaned 'em up."

"Oh, Dana must be thrilled!" MC exclaimed,   
hugging her friend. "I'm so happy for you, Ellery!"

Mulder hugged the small woman back. "I'm pretty   
happy, too," he said tiredly. They broke apart and   
he leaned back against the sofa cushions. "I just   
wish Will were here. I want him to see the babies."

"Daddy, Daddy! Look what I got in my Happy   
Meal. A soccer guy! Uncle Joe lets me have Dr.   
Pepper! We played in the playballs," Will hit the   
family lounge like a three-foot dynamo.

"Hey there, buddy!" Mulder said, grabbing his son   
and lifting him up on his lap. "What do you have   
there?"

"It's a soccer guy. Uncle Joe said I can play soccer   
when I get big. Can we get a soccer ball and we can   
play at school?"

"We'll talk about that later. I have a surprise,"   
Mulder said, winking up at Joe and MC who were   
watching fondly a few feet away. "You have two   
new baby sisters," he announced proudly.

"I know," Will said calmly. "Missy and Sammi.   
Can I go see them now?" he asked.

Mulder stared at the little boy for a moment.   
"Buddy, Mommy and Daddy haven't . . . what did   
you call them?"

"Missy and Sammi, Daddy. Missy was born first.   
Sammi was next. I'm the oldest!" he said with great   
seriousness. "Auntie Mary said so."

"He's been talking about them since we got here,"   
Joe said with a shrug. "He told us their names are   
Melissa Margaret and Samantha Ann. I figured you   
guys must have decided on the names in the last day   
or two and just didn't tell us."

Mulder tried to cover his concern. "We hadn't   
really considered those names," he said slowly.

"Daddy, Missy and Sammi are waitin'," Will said   
emphatically. "C'mon!"

"Will, where did you hear those names for the   
babies?" Mulder asked, a cold chill taking hold in   
the pit of his stomach.

"The ladies told me," he said casually, fingering his   
toy soccer player.

"What ladies?" Mulder prodded.

"The ones that come in my room when I'm   
sleepin'," Will said with a smile. "They're real   
pretty. They have long hair, and they smile all the   
time. They're real nice. Their names are Missy and   
Sam. They told me the babies' names."

MC and Joe looked confused and Mulder didn't   
want to go into details without consulting Scully.   
"Well, for the moment, let's wait until we see   
Mommy to decide the babies names," Mulder said   
evenly, hoping he didn't upset Will or scare him   
with his reaction.

Will was thrilled that he was allowed to hold each   
new sister, but it didn't take long for him to get   
restless and bored with the babies. MC offered to   
take him back to the apartment for a nap.

"You two have to get home, don't you?" Mulder   
asked. "The kids -- "

"Now, Hale, you know the kids are fine. Meg is   
taking the boys to baseball practice. I told them I'd   
be home tonight, MC wants to stay for a day or two   
until Dana gets settled. This is the closest thing to   
being a grandmother she's likely to get in the   
foreseeable future, so let her horn in, er, help for a   
while," Joe said, earning himself a quick kick to the   
shin.

"That would be wonderful," Mulder admitted. He   
and Scully had discussed the big picture often when   
they were planning for the babies' arrival, but the   
little details always seemed to scurry out of view.

"Joe got me a room at the Hampton Inn, right across   
from campus," MC said. "I'll take Will to the   
apartment for a nap and then tonight, when you're   
there, I'll fix some dinner so you can rest, too. Of   
course, you'll want to come back up here during   
visiting hours, but they're pretty strict about kicking   
you out right at 9. Joe can tell you."

"I have the boot marks on my ass to prove it," Joe   
said, rubbing his hip.

Mulder paced the hall until the nurse finally let him   
down to see Dana. She was looking better after her   
nap. They'd let her take a short shower and she was   
dressed in the nightgown he'd bought for her on her   
birthday, a nursing gown just as she'd requested.   
He smiled so wide his cheeks hurt when he saw her.

"Hey, good lookin'," she said as she held out her   
arms to him. He fell into her embrace happily.   
"Did you get some rest?" she asked.

"Not a bit," he murmured as he buried his face in   
her hair. "Don't need sleep. Must make enough to   
support large family," he spoke in robotic tones.

She laughed at him and stroked his hair. Finally, he   
sat up and took her hand. "Will's with MC at the   
apartment. I figure I'll bring him up to see you   
tonight."

"Good. I want to read him a bedtime story," she   
said as she settled back in the pillows. 

Mulder nodded and made a close examination of   
her blankets. She knew something was bothering   
him, but was hesitant to pull it out of him. She   
squeezed his hand to force him to look at her.   
"Hey, what's up?"

He sucked on his tongue a moment, gathering his   
wits. "Have you thought about their names?" he   
asked innocently.

She smiled at him and pulled her hand away to   
reveal a small book hidden under the blankets.   
_20,000 Baby Names_

"I'm been reading some," she admitted guiltily.   
"But I was only making notes to go over with you.   
I know last time I sort of sprung Will's name on   
you, you didn't get a chance to even say if you had   
an alternative."

"Well, technically, you did most of the work on   
Will," he pointed out. "I wasn't even fast enough to   
make it for his birth." As always, he tried to cover   
his discomfort with humor.

She pulled his hand to her mouth to kiss his   
knuckles. "You were there for all the really   
important parts," she reminded him. "So, have you   
been thinking of names?"

"No," he said honestly. "But apparently Will has."

She frowned and looked at him with a tilt to her   
head. He continued. "He's been calling them Missy   
and Sammi."

Her sudden intake of breath echoed his reaction.

"I know. I asked him where he heard those names.   
I mean, we've mentioned your sister Melissa and   
my sister Samantha, but I don't remember calling   
them by their nicknames."

"No, no, I don't either, but it's always possible.   
Why? How do you think he came up with them?"   
she asked.

"I asked him. He said 'the ladies' told him. The   
ladies who come into his room when he's sleeping."

Her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes flew open   
wide. "Ohmigod . . ."

He squeezed her hand still clasped in his palm.   
"Scully," he whispered, "he said they were very   
pretty and very nice. He said they smile all the   
time. And they told him their names are Missy and   
Sam. He told MC that the babies are named   
Melissa Margaret and Samantha Ann. Now, I never   
knew Missy's middle name and I know I've never   
used Sam's middle name around Will, she avoided it   
as much as I've avoided Fox."

"You think they came to him?" she asked in a tiny,   
frightened voice.

He nodded. "But so far, all of these visitations, for   
all of us, have been positive. They're watching over   
us, Scully," he continued in low tones. "I think it's   
wonderful. And I sort of feel, well, it would seem   
ungrateful if we didn't, you know -- "

"So we name the babies after our sisters, because   
our sisters came to Will in a dream and told him to   
tell us," she completed for him. "Mulder, what   
next? Is your mother going to come one night and   
offer to babysit for us?" she asked derisively.

"I don't think she's the type, sweetheart. She's more   
the 'send the kids a card with money' type   
Grandma," he responded.

Scully sat there, considering all the implications for   
a moment. Tears started down her cheeks again.

"You know, hormones are a bitch," he said fondly   
as he wiped her cheek with his thumb.

"I was just thinking that the only one of our parents   
who don't know about us and the kids . . ."

"Is your mother," he said sadly. She nodded and   
her face crumbled as she broke down into sobs.

Mulder took her into his arms and held her close. "I   
promise, we'll get word to her. I just have to figure   
out a safe way to do it. But I will work on it, I   
swear to you, Scully. I will work on it."

 

FBI Headquarters  
Washington DC  
Violent Crimes Unit.  
July 20, 2003

His desk was at the back of the room, in a corner   
that had previously been home to the copier. The   
irony was not lost on him. Walter Skinner   
straightened the sheets of paper in his hand and   
returned them to the folder on his desk. Another   
file, another case. He wasn't allowed to work in the   
field, he was just allowed to consult. Most of his   
consultations were over the phone and it was given   
no real authority over the investigations. In short,   
he was punching the clock, just taking up space   
until his retirement in five years.

Skinner still wasn't sure why they hadn't just fired   
him. John Doggett had been summarily dismissed   
upon his return from Arizona. He'd gone back to   
New York where he was once again on the police   
force. Monica Reyes had not even left a forwarding   
address, but he'd heard she'd moved back to New   
Orleans. He wondered briefly why she didn't go to   
New York with Doggett, but decided it was best not   
to worry about such things. Besides, after Deputy   
Director Kersh's complete vanishing act, from the   
Hoover Building in the middle of the day after he'd   
help Mulder escape a death squad, Skinner decided   
it was best not to look into anything too deeply.

And no one had seen or heard from Fox Mulder and   
Dana Scully in over two years. After much debate,   
and the testimony of Doggett and Reyes that they'd   
last seen the pair entering a pueblo that had been   
destroyed by rocket fire, the official version was   
that the two were killed in the line of duty. Skinner   
realized that was as much to keep Scully's brothers   
and her mother off the trail of the conspiracy as it   
was any honor to the two agents. 

Skinner had tried, just once, to contact the person   
who had helped him place baby William with his   
adoptive family. The phone number was   
disconnected. Skinner worried about that, too,   
when he allowed his mind to go in that direction.

For the most part, he was just trying to survive.

He picked up the file folder on the top of the pile.   
Three deaths across the northeast. A serial killer   
was suspected. The only impairment to the   
investigation, there were no bodies of the victims.   
There were witnesses to each murder, had different   
descriptions of the murderer, but they were sketchy   
at best. Tall, at least 6 foot. Built, or so one   
witness had described him. But the murders had   
occurred in shadows, dark alleys, at a mostly   
deserted rest stop in Massachusetts. No make on   
even the race of the killer. 

Skinner pulled the pages forward and adjusted his   
glasses. The case was interesting. A sudden twinge   
caught him in the gut. Just the kind of case he   
would have sent downstairs to the basement. An X   
file. But the X files were closed, the filing cabinets   
packed off to some warehouse, the old office once   
again a copy room. Every bit of evidence that there   
had ever been an X Files Division had been erased,   
possibly like the two agents who had made up that   
division. He shook his head to dispel his maudlin   
thoughts. 

"Give it to Walter, this should be up his alley."

Skinner cringed at the sound of the SAC's voice.   
Gary McDaniel. He'd been McDaniel's supervisor   
just two years ago. The tough young agent had   
been hanging by a thread, had two reprimands   
already in his jacket. One more disciplinary notice   
and he would have been standing before OPR. But   
McDaniel apparently had some friends, and after   
Kersh's disappearance and Skinner's own fall from   
grace, McDaniel's found himself in the catbird's   
seat. He was making sure to remind Skinner of his   
position every single day.

The file folder made a loud 'thump' when it hit the   
corner of his desk. "You're good at fertilizer   
checks, Walter, aren't you?" McDaniel sneered.   
"After all those years of bullshit from those losers in   
the basement."

Skinner sat stone still, holding his anger tight in his   
chest. He had nothing left except his pension and   
he had two years before he could even think about   
retiring. Well, 22 months, 18 days, he glanced   
down at his watch and mentally did the calculations.   
Five hours and 12 minutes. He could hold it in that   
long. Maybe.

"You have your assignment, Agent Skinner. I   
suggest you pick up that phone and let your fingers   
do the walking."

"I thought I was supposed to review the work on   
these killings, sir," Skinner said with an emphasis   
on the 'sir' that made his jaw ache.

"Well, you thought wrong, Skinner," McDaniel   
sneered. "That's way out of your league now,   
mister."

He forced himself to look up at the glowering   
young man staring down at him. Skinner refused to   
flinch in front of the little bastard.

"Did you hear me, Skinner? Start shoveling that   
shit," McDaniel smirked.

The folder was just inches from his fingertips. He   
fought the urge to throw it in McDaniel's face.   
Instead, using very controlled movements, he   
opened McDaniel's folder, grabbed the phone   
receiver and dialed the first number.

McDaniel started to walk away, but turned around a   
few feet from Skinner's desk. "Let me know if   
anything 'Spooky' pops up, Walter," McDaniel   
called out as one last parting shot. The pull bit   
erupted in loud snickering as the other agents   
caught the joke. Skinner squared his shoulders and   
didn't look up. Only the ring tone of the receiver   
heard his near silent "Yes sir, asshole!"

12:00

The only bright spot in Walter Skinner's week came   
at lunchtime on Thursdays. After years of being his   
Administrative Assistant, Kimberly Mathers was   
heartbroken when she was forced to change jobs   
after Skinner's demotion. The worse luck for Kim   
was that she ended up working on the sixth floor,   
the Director's offices. It was a step up the ladder for   
Kim, but it just pounded home how far her former   
boss had fallen. About a month after Skinner's new   
assignment, Kim made a point of bumping into him   
at the Bureau cafeteria. She suggested that they   
would find better food at a local diner. Skinner   
took a chance and went there the next day at noon.   
Sure enough, Kim was there and they had lunch   
together. They had been meeting for lunch every   
Thursday since that day.

Kim had suggested a new place, a little further from   
the Bureau, the last time they'd met. Skinner   
arrived at noon straight up and looked around. It   
was a small Mexican restaurant. He got a table for   
two and sat down, munching chips and salsa until   
Kim arrived. She was almost ten minutes late and   
he was starting to get worried. She hurried over to   
the table, immediately apologizing.

"Walter, I'm so sorry! The office was a mess this   
morning and I just couldn't get a way."

"Kim, that's perfectly all right. You have a lot of   
responsibilities, keeping those bozos in line up there   
on six," Skinner teased.

"Believe it. And here I left a good job working as   
an aide at a day care to come to work for the   
Government," she said with a sigh. "Some days I   
feel like I'm back there."

Skinner chuckled. It was the only pleasure he got   
anymore. He often thought about asking Kim out   
after work, but each time had decided against it. He   
was a pariah and the last thing he wanted to do was   
drag her down with him. Better to keep their   
relationship to the occasional lunch, if it allowed   
Kim to keep her position at the office.

They looked over the menus and gave the waiter   
their order. As soon as the young man had left,   
Skinner's curiosity got the better of him.

"So, what emergency befell the upper echelons of   
power today? White House briefing? Tenet called   
and cancelled the joint CIA-FBI golf outing?" he   
asked with a devilish grin.

She giggled. "Oh, no, not the golf outing! I would   
have had to cancel this lunch if that had happened,"   
she shot back. "No, apparently Deputy Director   
Marris left. And from what I could gather, it was   
quite sudden."

"Marris?" Skinner asked and a flood of   
apprehension swept through him. "Wasn't he . . ."

Kim looked around them furtively and then leaned   
closer to Skinner, lowering her voice. "On Agent   
you know who's little jury? Yes, he was. He took   
DD Kersh's place after Kersh disappeared."

Skinner had been fairly certain that Alvin Kersh   
would not be 'reappearing'. He was positive Kersh   
had been killed for his part in helping Mulder   
escape the military stockade. As always, no body   
was found and no investigation was made. It was as   
if Kersh had just decided to find employment   
elsewhere. "You say Marris left? Where did he   
go?"

Kim's eyebrows knitted and she shrugged. "That's   
what his secretary would like to know," she said   
conspiratorially. "He was at work yesterday, had a   
full appointment schedule for today. He never   
called in. She was informed by the front office   
about ten o'clock." The 'front office' was Kim's   
nickname for the Attorney General's office.

Skinner chewed on his lip. Their food arrived and   
the conversation changed directions to the new   
sitcom that Kim had convinced Skinner to start   
watching. They didn't discuss Marris or his   
disappearance again for the rest of the lunch. 

The next day, Skinner was at his desk, again   
looking through the file on the murders without   
bodies. He pulled up a map program on the internet   
and charted the path. It appeared that the killer or   
killers were traveling south, along the eastern   
seaboard. As he was trying to figure out how that   
fit with what they already knew, which was next to   
nothing, his phone rang. It was Kim.

"Walter, can you meet for lunch?" she asked, and   
only the note of desperation in her voice stopped   
him from teasing her about having to see him again   
so soon.

"Sure. Just not Mexican, OK? I think those   
burritos were filled with explosives."

That lightened the moment a little. She chuckled.   
"OK, how about hot dogs on the Mall. Same time."

"I'll see you then," he promised and put the phone   
down slowly. He couldn't imagine what had Kim   
so rattled. It would be a long three hours until   
lunchtime.

It was a beautiful day on the Capitol Mall. The   
tourists were in full bloom, several tour buses were   
already spewing forth passengers in front of the   
National Gallery of Art. Skinner hurried across the   
lawn to the hot dog vendor near the Smithsonian   
Castle. Kim had beaten him and was already   
holding her dog and drink. She waited while he got   
his food and then nodded up the street toward the   
Capitol. "It's a nice day. Can we walk?" she asked.   
He nodded in agreement.

"So, what's up? Today isn't Thursday," he said   
pointedly as they made their way up the sidewalk   
past the Air and Space Museum.

"Two more of them are gone, Walter. I'm getting   
scared," she said succinctly.

"Who is gone?" he asked, stopping in mid bite.

"Two more of the men on the sixth floor! An AD   
and another DD," she said in a whisper.

"Names?"

"Brinker and Huffman," she said, looking quickly at   
the crowd of tourist that was about to surround   
them. "Shhh, I don't want anyone to hear."

They made their way through the tourists, who were   
all from some Latin American country from the   
sounds of their chatter, and Skinner directed her   
over to a bench to sit down.

"Kim, is this like yesterday? What do you mean   
they are gone?"

"They were both at work yesterday, and never   
showed up today. But Walter, that's not the scary   
part. It's like they never existed! They're names are   
being removed from their doors as we speak. It's   
just spooky," she said with a visible shiver. 

The word hit him hard. She noticed immediately.   
"Oh, darn it, I'm sorry, Walter. I didn't mean that . .   
. you know what I mean," she mumbled helplessly.

"No, it's OK, Kim. I understand," he tried to   
reassure her. "Brinker and Huffman and yesterday   
it was Marris."

"All of them gone. Poof!" she said, snapping her   
fingers. "Walter, I knew Marris had a hand in that .   
. . situation a few years ago, but I didn't know if   
Brinker . . ."

"Both Brinker and Huffman were on that jury,   
Kim," Skinner confirmed her suspicions.

"Oh shit," Kim said, staring down at her drink. She   
finally raised her eyes to meet his. "Walter, these   
men, I admit I didn't care about them one way or   
another, but to just vanish without a trace . . ."

"Kim, I want you to go back to the office and just   
leave this alone," Skinner said gruffly. At her   
startled expression, he softened his tone. "I think   
you're right to be scared. But if you leave this   
alone, nothing will happen to you."

"Walter," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not   
afraid for me. I'm afraid for you! You were Agent   
Mulder's defense attorney. If all the members of   
that jury start vanishing, what might happen to   
you?"

Skinner looked into her eyes and was absolutely   
floored by what he saw there. If he didn't know   
better, he could swear he saw love in Kim's eyes.   
He shook his head slowly, not quite believing.   
Then Kim took his hand in hers and the sensation   
completely blew him away. 

"Walter, I know you've hated being down in VCS   
and you're only sticking it out to get your pension.   
But please, if you're in any danger, get out now. If   
anything were to happen to you . . ." she looked   
away and as she turned her head, Skinner could see   
tears on her lashes.

"Kim . . . I don't . . ." He stopped himself. This   
wasn't the time or place to have a conversation   
about where their relationship was headed. Kim   
was right, he could be in danger. The very last   
place she should be seen was with him. "We need   
to get back to the office, but I think we should go   
there separately. You go ahead, I'll follow in a few   
minutes."

"You think this is something. You think you're in   
danger, too," she said quietly.

He smiled wanly at her. "I think I'm very lucky you   
got that promotion to the sixth floor," he said   
calmly. "Now, you need to get back."

She nodded and started to get up. Suddenly, she   
leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Be   
careful, Walter," she pleaded. Before he could   
recover from his shock, she was half a block away.

Walter spent the rest of the afternoon trying to   
locate any mention of the three missing men in the   
Bureau's files. The directory of staff had been   
changed and even Holly in research couldn't find   
any mention of them in the personnel files. Skinner   
was more convinced than ever that the men were   
murdered and a cover up was underway. His only   
question was why.

Five o'clock finally arrived and Skinner shut down   
his computer and headed home. His apartment in   
Crystal City was dark and lonely, as always. He   
deposited his suit coat on the back of an armchair   
and his tie on the coffee table. Pulling out a yellow   
post it note, he dialed a number he'd found online.

"Peter Kallenbrunner," answered the other party   
after the second ring. 

Skinner cringed. The last man on earth he ever   
expected to be calling was Agent Kallenbrunner.   
He could still see the man, could still picture him as   
he sat at the prosecution's table in that dungeon of a   
courtroom. It was everything Skinner could do not   
to hang up the phone. "Agent Kallenbrunner, this is   
Walter Skinner."

There was silence on the other end of the line for   
several seconds. "Skinner? What can I do for you   
Assistant Director?"

Skinner swallowed and eyed his makeshift bar on   
the counter in the kitchen. He'd have given his right   
arm for a glass of bourbon at that moment. "It's   
Agent Skinner now."

Kallenbrunner was quiet again. "I'm sorry to hear   
that. Anyway, what can I do for you, Agent   
Skinner?"

"It's come to my attention that men are   
disappearing. Men who have something in common   
. . . with you and me."

"We have something in common, Agent Skinner?"   
came the slightly bemused voice over the phone   
line. "I don't think you would have thought that two   
years ago."

"That is precisely what I'm talking about," Skinner   
ground out angrily. "Our last meeting, we weren't   
alone."

"I'm very well aware that we weren't the only ones   
in the room, Skinner. And two years ago, one of the   
men who was also in that room disappeared without   
a trace. I don't remember getting a phone call from   
you at that time."

"Agent Mulder was set up," Skinner growled. "And   
you know it! You knew it when the body failed to   
be Knowle Rohrer."

"That was an unsubstantiated rumor perpetrated by   
the lover of the defendant. I find it hardly . . ."

"Listen to me, you asshole!" Skinner shouted. "The   
members of that kangaroo court, the jury members,   
and I use that term loosely, are failing to show up at   
their jobs. There is no explanation and more   
importantly, no investigation of their whereabouts."

"Maybe they just got jobs somewhere else,"   
Kallenbrunner suggested but he was at least   
listening.

"No, it has been too sudden. No warning, they are   
just gone. Their names were removed from the   
personnel files the day of their disappearance."

"You hacked into the Bureau personnel files,   
Skinner?"

"I didn't 'hack' into anything, you son of a bitch! I   
have a friend who looked for me. Will you pull that   
Rule Book out of your ass and just listen to me for a   
moment? We could be next!"

He was again met with silence from the man in   
California. "What do you want me to do?"   
Kallenbrunner asked tersely.

"The two other members of the jury, Hanson and   
Galbrith, where are they?"

"Hanson was assigned to the New Mexico Regional   
office and Galbrith is out here in LA. He's my   
boss."

Skinner's stomach dropped to the floor. This might   
not have been the best idea he'd had. "Keep an eye   
on Galbrith, I'll keep an eye on Hanson."

"What if they come for one of us? I have a wife . . .   
and kids," Kallenbrunner whispered into the phone   
line.

Skinner closed his eyes. "We keep in touch. I'll   
call you about this time each day."

"Call my cell phone. I don't want this going   
through the Bureau switchboard." Kallenbrunner   
rattled off his number.

"Good thinking," Skinner complimented him and   
returned the favor. "If something happens, if you   
need me, just call."

"Skinner," Kallenbrunner called out just before the   
older man had disconnected the call.

"Yeah?"

"Is this what they mean when they say 'strange   
bedfellows?"

If was a lame excuse for a joke, and Skinner took it   
to mean that the younger man was now truly   
frightened. "Yeah, I guess it is."

"Shit," came the response. Kallenbrunner hung up   
before Skinner had a chance to reply.

Skinner sat there with the phone still in his hand   
until the automated voice asked him if he cared to   
place another call and directed him to hang up the   
phone. Slowly, he put the phone back on its cradle.

Kallenbrunner hadn't been much help, but at least   
Skinner now knew the whereabouts of the two other   
jurors. If he were a betting man, he'd bet on the guy   
in New Mexico disappearing next.

New Mexico. Skinner shivered as the memory   
coursed over him. Scully, in tears. Monica telling   
her she didn't have to decide that night, she should   
think on it, she should sleep on it. Finally, Doggett   
had taken Monica home and it was just he and   
Scully. When she'd looked at him with those tears   
in her eyes, his heart had broken into a million   
pieces. "I want William to be safe," she'd sobbed,   
holding herself so rigid he thought she would   
shatter if a feather had landed in her lap. "Make   
sure he's safe."

He had accepted that charge. He contacted an old   
buddy from the Marines and he found a place for   
William, a quiet place, a good home. He alone   
knew the location, in case it was an emergency, in   
case he learned that William wasn't safe, even in the   
safest of places. It was the least he could after all   
she'd been through. 

Now he knew he'd have to go out to New Mexico,   
just to make sure. If every member of Mulder's jury   
was disappearing, could his son be in danger? It   
was a chance Skinner just couldn't take. He dialed   
the Bureau offices, left a message on McDaniel's   
voicemail. He was taking a few weeks of vacation,   
effective immediately.

 

Hale Household  
Alexandria, MT  
June 19, 2004  
6:05 am

Mulder leaned over to finish tying a shoelace when   
he heard it. Not it, he admonished himself -- them.   
The twins. It was a morning ritual. He hadn't had a   
good morning run since the babies came home from   
the hospital. He sighed resignedly and climbed the   
stairs to the nursery that used to be his office. On   
opposite sides of the room, two identical cribs   
framed the window that overlooked the 'Old Man',   
as he and Scully referred to 'their' mountain. The   
birds were just starting up a chatter in the aspen tree   
outside the window. 

Neither baby was crying. Melissa had her fist in her   
mouth, sucking vigorously. Little Samantha was   
eyeing the mobile above her head -- Blues Clues   
characters, at her older brother's insistence, danced   
in the faint breeze. She was staring so hard, her tiny   
blue eyes were crossed. When they heard their   
father's approach, both babies turned their heads   
toward the door.

"Hey, there, what are you two doing up this early?   
Why can't you be more like your mom, huh? Sleep   
in a little, and give your old man a break?" Mulder   
scooped up first Samantha and then Melissa into his   
arms. He'd gotten fairly proficient at carrying both   
babies. He danced them around the room once and   
then deposited Melissa in her infant seat while he   
quickly diapered her sister, then switched babies   
and repeated the process. Soon, he had them both   
in his arms again and he sat down in the glider that   
occupied the corner of the room. "Well, ladies,   
that's the extent of my duties, until you decide to   
take a bottle or start on solid food." The babies   
stared up at him, mesmerized.

Little feet in the hallway alerted him to another   
inhabitant of the house, but unfortunately, not one   
that could lend him much assistance.

"Daddy, I'm hungry," yawned a droopy-eyed   
William from the doorway. "Put the babies down   
and make me oatmeal," the little boy pleaded.

"Will, what did your mom and I tell you about   
that?" Mulder asked, giving his son a frown.

William sighed, unknowingly mimicking his father   
from just moments before. "The babies are littler   
and they come first. But that means I come second,   
right? Or sometime?"

Mulder had a hard time keeping a straight face in   
light of his son's perceptive logic. "Yes, it does.   
And either Mommy or I will get you some oatmeal   
in just a minute. I was hoping we could let Mommy   
sleep a little this morning, but maybe it's time to   
wake her up."

"No need," yawned Scully as she ruffled William's   
hair and stepped around him to walk across the   
room and crouch next to Mulder and her daughters.   
"I'm up. Heads or tails?" she asked.

"Too late, I changed 'em already." Mulder smiled at   
her. "But if you make Will's oatmeal, I'll keep the   
girls occupied."

"Deal," Scully said, reaching up to capture a good   
morning kiss from her partner. "Did you get your   
run?" she asked, noticing for the first time his attire   
of running shorts and tee shirt.

He shook his head and shrugged. "Maybe when   
they're in kindergarten?" he offered.

"More likely when they're in college," Scully said   
tiredly and ushered William down the hall. "I'll   
make coffee."

"I knew there was a reason I love you," he said   
loudly enough for her to hear over William jumping   
down each step of the staircase.

Melissa fussed slightly in his arms and he leveraged   
her onto his shoulder. "I know, I know, you're   
hungry. Mommy will be back soon," he crooned to   
her. Looking down at Samantha, he smiled. "And   
you're just content to check out the window, hmm?" 

He followed the baby's gaze out the window to the   
mountain. It was beautiful in the early morning   
light. The last of the snow had melted from their   
yard, but there was still snow on the top of the   
mountain. Drawing his line of sight indoors, he   
looked around the room. It was a sweet little   
nursery. He and Scully had fixed it up a few   
months before the babies arrived, with considerable   
help from Joe and MC Hawthorne. The room   
sported cream-colored walls with a border of   
dancing teddy bears. He was happy at how it had   
turned out, but more so when he saw the look of   
gratitude on Scully's face when she had seen the   
finished product for the first time. Of course, in   
true pregnant fashion, she had broken down into   
tears and sobbed into his paint-splattered shirt. But   
he knew they were tears of joy.

"Have you thought more about the house?" Scully   
asked softly as she stepped into the room.

"Is William eating?" he asked, ignoring her question   
for the moment.

"Yes, and I started the coffee; it'll be ready when   
you go clean up his mess. Now I believe it's this   
lady's turn," Scully said, lifting Melissa out of her   
father's arms. "I'll lay down with her. Come talk to   
me."

Mulder switched Samantha to his shoulder and   
followed Scully into their bedroom. She moved the   
blankets aside and lay down on her side, slipping   
open her nursing gown and helping the infant latch   
on to her nipple. Mulder stood watching her,   
mesmerized, a warm and strongly protective feeling   
rushing through him.

"How long are you going to breastfed them both,   
Scully?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

She smiled up at him. "Oh, probably until they're   
six months old. Then we'll see. I enjoy it, Mulder.   
And I get plenty of rest, with you home most days.   
Since Meggie has been coming to help out, I sleep   
longer than William."

"That's not saying much," Mulder scoffed.

"Mulder, you're deflecting," she teased. When he   
gave her a confused look, she prodded further.   
"The house?"

He chewed on his lip and looked around their   
bedroom. It was small, but served its purpose.   
Still, with two new additions to the family, he   
wondered how long it would be before they began   
feeling cramped. He looked out their bedroom   
window to the trees in the yard and by the road.   
The crabapple blossoms still littered the ground.   
The redbud was finally loosing the last of its purple   
flowers. It had been breathtaking, this house in the   
springtime.

"I think . . . I think we need to add on," he said   
slowly, looking over at her. "Maybe a master   
bedroom up here and a real office downstairs.   
When the girls are older, one of them can have this   
room and the other can keep the nursery -- with   
suitable redecorating, of course."

She smiled up at him. "So we're going to buy this   
house?"

"Do you want to?" he asked.

"I wanted to say yes last night when they called.   
Mulder, we're safe here. It's been two years and   
nothing has happened, no military has come looking   
for you, no super-soldiers have been looking for   
William. Besides, if we don't take it we have to   
move and the thought of moving right now . . ."

"But I'm talking about adding on, and that's a   
headache, too," he countered.

"I can live through plaster and sawdust if I don't   
have to pack," she said with a grin. 

"Then I'll call Jim later today. It's a shame about his   
dad dying, but Jimmy was 89 and it sounds like the   
old guy had a good life. If we buy the house it will   
be one less thing for his family to worry about. I   
don't want to keep them waiting. They want to get   
the estate settled as soon as possible."

"Dana, Mr. Hale, I'm here," came a young voice   
from the downstairs hall. 

"We're up in the bedroom, Meg. Come on up,"   
Scully called down to the teen.

"How come you're 'Dana' and I'm still 'Mr. Hale'?"   
Mulder asked with a scowl.

"Because she doesn't have a school girl crush on   
me," Scully answered with a malicious grin. "She   
thinks you're 'awesome,' but totally out of her   
league."

"Are you sure you aren't confusing me with Orlando   
Bloom?" Mulder whispered back as he heard   
footsteps on the stairs.

"Not a chance. Don't worry, I'm used to your   
'effect' on women, Mulder. I would bet good   
money that half the girls taking Deviant Behavior   
this summer are there just to see if you come in to   
teach class wearing a muscle shirt and cut off   
shorts," she said affably.

He looked down at his running clothes, a University   
of Montana sweatshirt minus the sleeves and a pair   
of Nike running shorts. He grinned at her. "Maybe   
I just won't change for class," he teased.

"Hit the showers," Scully laughed. She moved from   
the bed with Melissa and was about to pick up   
Samantha when Meg entered the room.

"Oh, let me get her, Dana. Hey, Sammi, how's my   
girl?" Meg asked fondly as she expertly lifted the   
newborn. Hearing the new voice, Melissa turned   
toward the sound. "I'm not ignoring you, Missy!"   
she told the infant. "Do you want me to give them   
baths this morning, Dana?"

"In a little while. I think now they just want to play.   
I'll go find out what William's up to and grab a bowl   
of cereal."

"He's playing cars in the kitchen," Meg assured her   
as she carried Samantha downstairs to the living   
room, followed by Scully carrying Melissa. Both   
babies were placed on their backs in a soft-sided   
playpen by the big double window. "I'll watch   
them, you go get some breakfast."

Thirty minutes later, Scully was pouring coffee in a   
travel mug as Mulder entered the kitchen, dressed in   
chinos and a polo shirt and looking more like a   
tennis player than a college professor. 

"You didn't get breakfast," she said. "Do you want   
a bagel for the road?"

"I'm good. I have to watch those calories. Don't   
want to disappoint my fan club," he sniggered. She   
slapped him on the shoulder as she handed him the   
mug. He took a sip and put it down on the   
countertop.

"So you're going to call Jimmy's son today?" she   
asked.

"And the bank to transfer the money. Should be   
pretty quick, since we aren't going through a   
mortgage company. Can you ask MC and Joe about   
contractors in the area?"

"I'll call them this afternoon." She looked out the   
kitchen window, her eyes becoming shadowed and   
pensive.

"Having second thoughts?" he asked, hugging her   
from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder.

She smiled at their reflection in the glass of the   
windowpane. "No. I just didn't think it would be   
this easy. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"We're out of the car, Scully. And both my shoes   
are on my feet." He kissed the top of her head.   
"You, however, look really cute barefoot," he   
whispered as he nuzzled her ear.

"Caveman," she accused and gave him another   
swat, followed by a kiss. "Get to work. Act like   
you do something for a living," she teased and   
handed him the mug again. He kissed her one more   
time and headed for the door.

Maggie Scully residence  
Baltimore, MD  
June 19, 2004  
10:15 am

Maggie dumped the dregs of her coffee cup into the   
sink and rinsed the cup, leaving it to dry on the dish   
drainer. There was no putting it off any longer.   
The parish garage sale was in one week and she'd   
vowed to go through some of the boxes stored in the   
garage for possible donations. She told herself she   
wasn't giving up, that even if her daughter returned   
home someday, the clothes she'd left behind in her   
apartment would be woefully out of date. Many of   
the items had been hanging in dry cleaner bags for   
months before Dana's middle-of-the-night   
departure, the slim lines if the suits cut for a woman   
who hadn't given birth. Maggie also knew that   
many of the suits only served as a reminder of   
Dana's missing heart, her other half, who had   
disappeared just as mysteriously.

Grabbing some empty boxes, Maggie trudged to the   
garage, feeling like a soul on the way to the   
gallows. She remembered doing this activity after   
her husband had died suddenly, and then again   
when her oldest daughter had been murdered. Did   
she really want to do it again? But she had no   
choice; there was no one else to do the job.

She'd kept Dana's apartment for six months after   
she'd lost track of her daughter. She'd finally given   
up the lease when the Bureau had decided to put the   
markers in Arlington Cemetery. Everyone else   
seemed so determined that Dana Scully had died   
somewhere in the New Mexico desert, with her   
former partner by her side. Even John Doggett had   
been convinced of that truth, or so he'd told her   
when he'd come by to say he was leaving town.   
Monica Reyes had written her a note before leaving   
for New Orleans, but it was more of a thank you   
than anything else. Only Walter Skinner remained,   
and Maggie knew that with each passing day Mr.   
Skinner was losing a bit more of himself.

She had sold the furniture immediately. All that   
remained were clothes and things she'd found in   
Dana's desk and night stand. She'd tried to sort   
things and label the boxes, but it hurt so much as   
she filled each cardboard container that after a while   
Maggie had just dumped whole drawers in, closed   
and taped the lids without even examining the   
contents.

The first box must have come from the desk. There   
was an address book, a DC phone book, several   
pens and pencils and pads of paper. Some file   
folders divided the contents and made the box seem   
like a layer cake. On the bottom was a photo   
album. Maggie drew in a deep breath and brought   
it to her lap. 

The first pages were filled with 8 by 10 glossy black   
and whites, almost all of them of Fox Mulder.   
Maggie could tell they were taken at various crime   
scenes because of the uniformed officers and squad   
cars in the background. Some of them had Dana   
with Fox, some were just of Fox alone. One picture   
had caught him with his head turned, as if someone   
had just called his name. His eyes were alight with   
a smile even though his mouth was pressed into a   
straight line. Maggie would have bet the person   
who'd called to him was her daughter.

Later pictures were of William, and it was more   
than Maggie to bear. With tears streaming down   
her face she carefully turned the pages and ran her   
finger over the plastic surface, as if hoping to   
connect just a little with her grandson. William in   
his bassinet, William in his car seat with one shoe   
off, William squinting into the sun in his stroller on   
a warm summer day. She'd only known him 9 short   
months, but his absence left a gapping hole in her   
heart. Maggie couldn't understand why Dana had   
given her baby up for adoption. It made even less   
sense when she remembered how her daughter had   
hoped and prayed for a child. Maggie closed the   
album and set it aside, letting loose a prayer for the   
baby who would now be almost three years old.

The next box was much easier and less emotional to   
sort through. It was filled with kitchen equipment,   
dishes and flatware. Several boxes with similar   
items followed. In no time at all, Maggie had more   
than enough for the garage sale. 

She carried the boxes out to her car and placed them   
in the trunk. On her way back into the house, she   
caught sight of the album. She approached it   
hesitantly, as if it might reach out and bite her.   
Finally, she opened the cover and flipped through   
the pages. Picking one photo of Fox and Dana, she   
slipped it out of the protective cover. She flipped a   
few more pages and picked one of a smiling   
William staring cross-eyed at the camera. She took   
it out of the album and then placed the album back   
in the box. She held the two photos close to her   
heart and went inside the house.

She busied herself with household chores, or so she   
told herself. With just one person to pick up after,   
there wasn't much to be done. She called a friend   
who was ill, made a hair appointment for the next   
day, ate a low-calorie frozen dinner in front of the   
evening news. She watched some television and at   
11 o'clock, she went up to bed. The photos came   
with her.

After she'd donned her nightgown, Maggie took the   
photos and placed them side-by-side on the   
nightstand, propped up against a framed snapshot of   
Bill, Tara and their son Matt. She said a rosary for   
all her children and grandchildren, then slid beneath   
the covers.

The dream came not long after she'd fallen asleep.   
Maggie dreamed she was walking down a hallway.   
The house was unfamiliar, but the walls were   
brightly painted and the wooden floor was clean and   
showed little sign of wear. She heard a creaking   
noise in one of the rooms and walked toward it.

The door was just slightly ajar, so she reached out   
and pushed it open. The occupants didn't bother to   
look up; it was as if they didn't know she was there.   
A woman was seated in a rocking chair, rocking   
slowly, steadily. Maggie stepped into the room and   
walked toward the woman. The woman was facing   
a window, and in the reflection caused by a single   
dim lamp, Maggie saw who it was and gasped. It   
was Dana! Her hair was cut longer and pulled back   
in a ponytail. She smiled gently, looking down at   
something. Maggie followed Dana's gaze and   
gasped again. Dana was nursing a baby. The tiny   
person was wrapped in a pink blanket with delicate   
lace covering satin bunting. A baby girl -- Dana   
had a baby girl. Maggie couldn't believe her eyes. 

But then she caught sight of something else in the   
window. A shadow fell across Dana and caused   
Maggie to flinch, but when she looked at the source,   
she smiled. Of course, it was Fox. He was standing   
just a few feet from Dana, swaying slowly as if   
dancing to an unheard song. After a moment,   
Maggie realized that he, too, was holding   
something. Another blanket. Just then, a tiny head   
reared back and Fox brought his hand up quickly to   
catch the neck in his hands as his eyes connected   
with the infant. He smiled and murmured to the   
baby, who nuzzled back in Fox's neck. He patted   
the tiny back and resumed his swaying.

Two babies. Fox and Dana had two daughters.   
Maggie sat up in bed and looked around the   
bedroom, expecting to see the room she'd been in   
during her dream. It had all been so real. She was   
shaking. She forced herself to calm down and got   
up to get a glass of water.

In the stark light of the bathroom, after a few sips of   
lukewarm water, Maggie looked at her own   
reflection in the mirror. It had been a dream, but it   
was more than that. Since she'd been a little girl,   
her grandmother had told her that she had 'the sight.'   
Her father had brushed it aside as the ravings of an   
old woman, but Maggie's mother had remained   
silent, looking at her only daughter with wistful   
melancholy. Now the sight was bringing her   
something she'd prayed for all through the last two   
years -- news of her daughter. Dana was alive, of   
that Maggie was certain. She was alive and well   
and living with Fox. And now, Maggie had two   
granddaughters. 

Maggie knew something else -- she had to find   
them.

Hale Household  
11:45 pm

Mulder was just crawling into bed when it started.   
A blood curdling scream came from the somewhere   
down the hallway. Scully sat straight up in bed,   
blindly searching the nightstand for a gun that   
wasn't there. Mulder jumped out of bed and was in   
the hallway before she could untangle herself from   
the blankets to go after him.

She skidded to a stop just inside the door to their   
son's bedroom. Mulder had turned the little   
nightlight to a higher illumination and was cradling   
William in his arms. The little boy was crying   
inconsolably and gripping his father's shirt, soaking   
it with his tears.

"It's OK, buddy. It's OK; it was just a bad dream.   
Daddy's here, Daddy's here," Mulder murmured   
over and over again. Scully swallowed the terror   
that had engulfed her at the sound of her son's   
scream and sat down on the bed next to Mulder so   
that she could rub the boy's back. Mulder smiled at   
her and kissed William's head. "Look, Will,   
Mommy's here, too. We could have a party," he   
joked, trying to get through the boy's anguish.

"Sammi! Missy!" William yelped and struggled out   
of his father's arms, hitting the ground at a dead run   
out of his room. Scully marveled at how very much   
the boy looked like his father until she noticed that   
Mulder was following Will and trying to stop him.   
She hurried after them, grabbing Mulder's hand. 

"He has to see for himself. They must have been   
part of his dream," she told Mulder. He   
immediately slowed down and nodded. How many   
nights in the distant past had he dialed a number just   
to hear her voice after a bad dream? Together, they   
entered the nursery.

Will was darting from one crib to the other, quietly   
climbing onto the rails to get a better look at the   
sleeping infants. After checking both cribs a   
number of times, he dropped to the floor, breathing   
heavily. Mulder stooped down and scooped the boy   
into his arms.

"C'mon, Will. I think we need some chocolate   
milk. How does that sound?" Mulder asked in a   
whisper so he didn't wake the babies. William   
nodded solemnly and nestled his face onto his   
father's shoulder. Scully brought up the rear of the   
parade as they made their way downstairs to the   
kitchen.

In the bright and cheery kitchen, it did look   
somewhat like a party. William was sipping   
chocolate milk out of his favorite McDonaldland   
cup. Mulder had a tall glass of iced tea in front of   
him, and Scully was sipping on ice water. 

"Do you want to tell Mommy and Daddy about your   
dream, buddy? Sometimes it helps to talk about it,"   
Mulder encouraged. He knew dreams at William's   
age sometimes didn't even take form, but the way   
the child had been so insistent on seeing his sisters   
was cause for some concern. "Did anyone talk to   
you in your dream?"

Scully shot him a look across the table. Mulder   
shook his head slightly to and fro. "The ladies,   
maybe? The nice ladies who told you the babies'   
names?"

William continued to drink his chocolate milk until   
the glass was empty. He sat it down with some   
finality. "I don't remember," he said flatly. "Can I   
have more?" he asked, shoving his cup over toward   
Scully.

"You don't remember the dream, or you don't   
remember if the ladies were there?" Mulder   
prodded.

"Can I have some cookies?" he asked his mother.

"Honey, Daddy asked you a question," Scully said   
gently. "Can you tell us about your dream? It's just   
a dream, sweetheart. It can't hurt you."

"He took us away," William said, and his face   
crumbled into tears. "A bad man took us away from   
you." In minutes, the small boy was trembling with   
fear and agony. "Mommy, I don't wanna go 'way! I   
don't wan' Missy and Sammi to go 'way!"

Scully gathered William into her arms and stroked   
his baby-fine chestnut hair. "Sweetie, no one is   
going to take you away. I promise. Mommy and   
Daddy will keep you safe. You and your sisters." It   
took several minutes of impromptu rocking on the   
wooden kitchen chair and finally William's little   
body grew limp in her arms.

"He's out," Mulder whispered, picking the boy up   
and turning him so his head rested on Mulder's   
shoulder. "I'll put him down." He carried his son   
up to the boy's bedroom.

Scully was straightening the kitchen when he came   
back downstairs.

"Some night, huh?" he asked, leaning against the   
doorjamb.

Scully shot him a sour look.

"What? What did I do?"

She tossed the sponge into the sink and wiped her   
hands on the tea towel. She cocked her head and   
silently led her partner into the living room.   
Looking at the shelf of DVDs, she selected a few   
and held them out to him.

"Texas Chainsaw Massacre," she read. "Halloween,   
the original," she said, shuffling the boxes as if they   
were a deck of cards. "Oh, and my personal   
favorite: 'Nightmare on Elm Street'!"

"Classics, Scully. And don't forget, research. I am   
teaching a class on the psychology of horror films,"   
he said with a shrug.

"And your son just happens to wander through the   
room when you're doing research, Mulder. It's no   
wonder the poor kid has nightmares. I want these   
put up somewhere, far away. Take them to school.   
You have a DVD in the psych department's office.   
'Research' them there," she growled, tossing him the   
cases.

"You're saying that all of a sudden these movies are   
getting to William? We've had these movies since   
he was born," Mulder pointed out.

"Yes, but we didn't watch them when he was   
awake," Scully countered. "I never watched them at   
all!"

"I really think there might be . . ."

She spun on her heel and headed toward the stairs.   
"I'm too tired to discuss it right now, Mulder. It   
was a bad dream. Get rid of those . . . movies, and   
do it before William wakes up." She hit the bottom   
of the steps when she heard a muffled noise.   
"Great, the twins are up," she huffed. 

"I'll help," Mulder offered, following behind her.

"No, you've done quite enough," she snapped. At   
his hurt look, she softened her expression. "I'm   
sorry, that wasn't fair. Look, I'll feed them and tuck   
them back in. I can sleep late tomorrow, you have   
class. Go on back to bed."

Mulder nodded, and headed to their room, but sleep   
was a hard fought battle. He couldn't help feeling   
that there was more to William's dream than a few   
scary movies.

 

Skinner's apartment  
Crystal City, VA

With his packed bag at his side, Walter   
Skinner opened the bottom drawer of his   
dresser and dumped the contents onto the   
bed. On the wood, between the rails of   
the drawer bottom, was taped a letter.   
He removed the envelope and sat down on   
the floor, not bothering to clean up the   
mess he'd just made.

He vowed to give this letter to Mulder   
and Scully when it was safe to do so.   
He'd made that vow entirely to himself.   
Scully and Mulder believed the   
whereabouts of their child was completely   
unknown. Only Walter Skinner knew the   
lie of that statement. For only Walter   
Skinner knew the truth.

Carefully, he pulled the flap and   
unsealed the linen paper. He removed the   
single sheet and unfolded it slowly.

Rachel and Henry Van de Kamps  
Rural Route 1  
Low, Utah

He studied the paper again, memorizing   
it, though there wasn't much information.   
He got up from the floor, walked into the   
kitchen and struck a match to the paper,   
holding it over the sink as he watched it   
burn to cinders. He ran the water to   
flush the ash down the drain. Calmly, he   
went back into the bedroom, picked up his   
suitcase and left his apartment, taking a   
cab to the airport.

Utah, going West from Salt Lake City

The directions he'd received at the   
airport information booth hadn't been   
much help. The area of Utah was almost   
totally uninhabited, and at the time,   
that had seemed appropriate. Now,   
Skinner wished more than anything that   
the boy had been placed with a nice   
family in a large metropolitan area, or   
at least somewhere easier to find.

The narrow dirt road was unmarked. He   
had to judge by his odometer how many   
miles from the last intersection. It was   
hit or miss but it wasn't like there were   
a dozen roads to choose from. The dirt   
path was the only break in the side of   
the road for miles, or at least for the   
miles since the intersection with the US   
highway. Skinner turned the car onto the   
path and wondered how long it would be   
before he found the Van de Kamp house.

There were trees in the distance and he   
felt a small amount of relief. Trees   
usually meant water, and often, houses.   
His heart lightened for a moment. Then   
he realized he was about to confront two   
people he'd never met before in his life.   
How was he going to explain his sudden   
appearance on their doorstep? How could   
he tell them that he was afraid their   
son, the baby they'd adopted two years   
before was under a threat that might   
extend to their lives?

He'd barely come up with a reasonable   
cover, that he was an FBI agent checking   
out a potential lead on a case, when he   
rounded the corner and slammed on the   
brakes. The sight before him took his   
breath away. Walter Skinner slowly shut   
off the engine to the car, opened the   
door and carefully got out.

A heavy gray cloud surrounded the charred   
remains of the house. As the wind   
shifted, Skinner immediately recognized   
the smell of burned wood mixed with other   
noxious odors. He walked slowly toward   
the former residence. An apple tree,   
small green apples still hanging from the   
branches farthest away from the blaze,   
was a surreal expression of the   
conflagration. Closer to the house, the   
branches were stripped of all vegetation,   
black and brittle. He doubted the tree   
would survive the assault; it would   
probably die before the end of the   
summer.

If he had any doubts about the owners of   
the house, the mailbox erased them. Set   
out closer to the driveway, the black box   
with the standard red flag had escaped   
the destruction. In gold leaf adhesive-  
backed letters read 'The Van de Kamps,   
Rural Route 1'.

Skinner's throat closed up and his eyes   
burned with unshed tears. He'd been too   
late. How could he face Margaret Scully,   
knowing that he could have stopped this   
tragedy if he'd only gotten there sooner?   
He swallowed bile in his throat and let   
out his anguish in deep shudders.

The hand that fell on his shoulder was   
such a shock that he reached for his gun   
and took a bead on the young man standing   
beside him. The young man held up his   
hands in surrender and calmly shook his   
head.

"The baby wasn't here, they already got   
him," the young man said with measured,   
even tones, as if talking to a madman.

"What?" Skinner demanded. "Who took him?   
Where is he?"

"Mulder and Scully. His parents. They   
found him, two years ago," the young man   
said with an easy smile.

Skinner narrowed his gaze. "How could   
they? Scully didn't know anything about   
the adoption," he ground out.

"Mulder brought her. He dreamed   
something, he knew where to go. I'm   
telling you the truth, William wasn't   
here."

"Who the hell are . . ." Walter stopped   
his demand in mid-sentence, taking a   
closer look. The kid's hair was lighter,   
he now sported a partial beard that was   
so popular with the young 'in-crowd', but   
there was no mistaking those eyes.   
"Gibson?" Skinner asked.

The young man nodded and his smile grew   
by leaps and bounds. "I wasn't sure if   
you remembered me. Mind putting the gun   
away?" he asked, gesturing to the weapon   
Skinner still held clutched in his hand.

Skinner looked down at his hand and back   
at Gibson. "How can I . . ."

A look of sad resignation came to the   
young man's face. He slipped his hand   
into his front pocket and produced a   
small penknife, no longer than an inch   
and a half. With a half grimace, he   
sliced a neat cut along the center of his   
left palm and held the hand up for   
Skinner to inspect. "It's really me," he   
said quietly as red blood trickled down   
his palm and wrist.

"Thank God," Skinner muttered, holstering   
his weapon. "Wait, you better . . ." He   
pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket   
and helped Gibson wrap it around his   
hand. "I'm sorry you had to do that."

"I'm sorry it's necessary," Gibson said   
with regret. "But you need to believe   
me. They found the baby just a day after   
the left you. They've been safe all this   
time."

"How do you know this? Have you been in   
contact with them?"

Gibson shook his head in the negative.   
"I just, well, I just know."

"You can read their minds?" Skinner   
asked, unconsciously wincing as he said   
the words.

Gibson chewed on his lip. "Not exactly.   
I mean, when Mulder lived with us, I   
could read him like a book. It was a   
pretty sad book, if you know what I mean.   
He missed Scully and the baby a lot. But   
then, after he left, it was like I was   
connected somehow. Like I knew when he   
was in trouble. That's why I came out to   
DC in the first place, because I knew   
what they were planning to do to him. So   
I can't read his mind, but I can tell you   
that he's a lot happier now, happier than   
I think I've ever known him to be. And   
I'm positive that Agent Scully and   
William are with him, or he would never   
be that happy." The young man shrugged   
his shoulders in a gesture of self-  
explanation.

Skinner surveyed the remains of the house   
again. "You say they got the baby not   
long after they escaped? Kersh told them   
to go north," he said, more to himself   
than to Gibson.

Gibson sighed. "I know. Mulder didn't   
listen. I knew that's what he was   
planning the last time I saw them, but if   
I'd said anything, well, you know how it   
was. I knew he was going to New Mexico.   
I lost track of his thoughts when they'd   
been gone about an hour. But I could   
still get that feeling, that connection.   
It was a couple of days later, I woke up   
and just knew he was happy. A little   
scared, I'll admit. But really, really   
happy. And that's pretty much how it's   
been."

"This fire was recently set," Skinner   
said, looking at the still smoking ruins. 

"The house was abandoned," Gibson said.

"You know that for certain?"

The young man nodded. "I don't think the   
adoptive parents were alive when Mulder   
and Scully got here to get the baby. I   
don't know what happened, but no one has   
been here for a long time."

"But someone was here looking for   
William," Skinner said firmly.

"Yes, I think they were. I think they   
still are looking for him," Gibson added.

"Any clue as to where I can look?"   
Skinner growled impatiently. All this   
back story was getting him nowhere, but   
at least he was fairly confident William   
was with his parents, and they were safe.

Gibson sadly shook his head. "I wish I   
could help."

After a few minutes of looking around,   
Skinner realized he wouldn't find any   
information at the house. He turned to   
the rental car and noticed Gibson's   
Yamaha motorcycle parked next to it.

"I didn't even hear you pull up," he said   
in confusion.

"I walked it the last mile. I wasn't   
sure what I would find. Then I saw you.   
I didn't want to scare you."

"Where are you going now?" Skinner asked.

"Back to the reservation, I suppose. I   
came because I had some bad dreams   
lately. Those men, the ones who aren't   
alive . . ."

"They're being killed off, destroyed,   
whatever," Skinner told him.

"I know. But I don't know who's doing   
it. It could be a good thing, having   
them dead," Gibson said hopefully.

"Or someone much worse could be killing   
off the competition," Skinner said   
tensely.

Gibson nodded in agreement.

"Will you be all right going back?"   
Skinner asked. "I mean, if they're   
looking for William . . ."

"They were never interested in me, only   
our own people wanted me. The others   
think I'm just a blip, a fluke. William   
has the real power they're worried about.   
I can read minds; William can destroy   
their plans. If they don't destroy him   
first."

Skinner nodded, is face set in   
determination. "We'll just have to make   
sure that doesn't happen."

"You're going to hunt for the rest of   
them, the ones from Mulder's jury,"   
Gibson said dully.

"I have no other choice. Maybe along the   
way, I'll find Mulder and Scully."

"I hope not," Gibson said. "If you do,   
they'll be dead." 

Before Skinner could object, Gibson got   
on his motorcycle and peeled out of the   
driveway, down the dirt road. After a   
minute, Skinner got in his rental car and   
followed.

Salt Lake City International Airport  
Salt Lake City, UT  
5:30 pm

Kallenbrunner picked up on the second   
ring. "What have you got?" he asked, not   
even waiting for Skinner to announce   
himself. Skinner figured the man must   
have given his cell phone number a   
special ring.

"I had to make a side trip, but it was   
unproductive. Have any more -- "

"The one in New Mexico. Yesterday   
afternoon. He left for lunch, never came   
back. Just like the others. My boss is   
getting nervous."

Skinner considered that a moment. "Do   
you think he'll make a run for it?"

"I don't think he would know where to   
run," Kallenbrunner replied. "Are you   
coming out here?"

"Yeah, I'm on a flight out in an hour and   
a half."

"I'll pick you up. What time does your   
flight arrive?"

"Kallenbrunner, you don't -- "

"What time, Skinner? And the flight   
number? Look, this isn't a social call.   
I'm just looking out for my own sorry ass   
here," the former pseudo-prosecutor   
reminded him.

"Arrival time is 7:35, Pacific. I'm on   
Delta 4391." Skinner could hear   
Kallenbrunner fumbling for a pen.

"Got it. I'll meet you at the gate."

Skinner waited at in the passenger lounge   
until his flight was called. Once on   
board the plane, he let himself think   
back to his conversation with Gibson.   
Could it be true? Could Mulder and   
Scully be alive, safe, with William? He   
didn't think it was possible, not after   
two years. He closed his eyes and fell   
into a light doze. He hadn't slept well   
since the whole business had started.

Los Angeles International Airport  
7:45 pm

Kallenbrunner was as good as his word.   
He was at the gate and shepherded Skinner   
out to his car, which was parking in   
hourly parking. "I know a little place   
not far from here," he said as he pulled   
out of the parking garage.

"How did you hear about Hanson?" Skinner   
asked when they settled in at the bar in   
North Hollywood.

"My boss got a fax. Apparently after the   
others went missing in DC they started   
keeping in better contact. But he didn't   
do anything. Left the office at the same   
time as usual tonight."

Skinner took a pull off his Coors and set   
it back on the table. "What do you think   
is going on?"

Kallenbrunner barked out a laugh. "Why   
ask me? I was a pawn in that little   
drama, Skinner. I didn't know a   
goddamned thing two years ago, and I sure   
as hell don't know anything now."

"You knew Mulder was innocent, didn't   
you?" Skinner accused.

The other man's expression grew hard. "I   
was given an assignment. I did it to the   
best of my ability. Look, Skinner, I   
know you aren't a lawyer, but you're ex-  
military, right?"

"Former Marine," Skinner replied.

"Then you know exactly what I was ordered   
to do. I've been a prosecutor. I left   
that to join the FBI. But in my old   
life, I was good at picking them out, the   
innocent from the guilty. I could tell   
by the way they held themselves, the way   
they looked at you when they were brought   
into the courtroom. If you want my   
confession, here it is. Yes, I knew   
Mulder was innocent. And I knew that in   
all probability, Agent Scully was telling   
the truth on that witness stand, or at   
least the truth as she knew it. But that   
wasn't my assignment. I was supposed to   
poke holes in that case and make sure   
Mulder was found guilty."

"They planned on killing him anyway. You   
just made sure no one would look into the   
murder," Skinner spat out.

"He's not dead!" Kallenbrunner yelled and   
then realized where he was and that   
others were listening. He drew in a deep   
breath to calm himself. "He's alive. He   
escaped, which makes him a wanted   
criminal. Most likely with your help,   
judging from your recent change of   
positions," he added, taking a drink from   
his own bottle of beer.

"There are no charges against him listed   
in the NCIC," Skinner pointed out.

"I don't know what to tell you. Maybe   
it's just on the military database,"   
Kallenbrunner suggested. At Skinner's   
roll of the eyes, the younger man   
relented. "OK, so they probably weren't   
real charges. What difference does it   
make now?"

"I think . . . I think their baby could   
be in danger," Skinner said evenly.

"She gave him up for adoption,"   
Kallenbrunner said, slightly confused.

"I was at the house of the adoptive   
parents. It was burned to the ground.   
No sign of anyone."

Kallenbrunner closed his eyes and opened   
them slowly. "What makes you think the   
boy wasn't inside?"

"A friend. A friend in a position to   
know such things. He believes Mulder and   
Scully got the boy immediately after we   
all lost track of them two years ago. He   
thinks they've been hiding out somewhere,   
together."

"Where? You can warn them of what's   
going on!"

Skinner shook his head. "My friend   
didn't have that information."

"Shit," Kallenbrunner swore. "What do we   
do now?"

"Wait. Watch. Your boss, this   
Galbraith, he's the best chance we have   
to draw this bastard out."

Kallenbrunner nodded. "OK, let's go.   
There's a motel not far from the office.   
I can drop you off there, pick you up   
sometime tomorrow."

Skinner shrugged in agreement and picked   
up his bags, following the other man out   
to his car.

Traffic was light as they drove through   
the streets. They were passing the FBI   
regional office when Kallenbrunner saw   
something down a side street. He pulled   
to a stop at the curb. "Do you have your   
weapon handy?" he asked Skinner.

"Yeah, why?" the older man asked as they   
both existed the car.

"I just saw Galbraith coming out of that   
restaurant. It looked like a guy had   
just stopped him and they disappeared   
down that alley."

"Why is it always an alley?" Skinner   
asked of no one, but headed off after   
Kallenbrunner at a trot.

"Down there," the younger man said as   
they approached the end of the alley.   
Two men were plainly visible in the   
security light from one of the   
businesses. Suddenly, something in the   
one man's hands flashed and the other man   
crumbled. 

"Damn it! That's Galbraith!"   
Kallenbrunner yelled and took off at a   
run. Skinner, noting the other man had   
been alerted and was heading down the   
alley, ran after him.

"Call for backup," Skinner yelled at   
Kallenbrunner as he passed him.

"Oh, shit, oh god!" Kallenbrunner was   
moaning. The man who had been his boss   
was slowly melting into a pool of green   
bubbling ooze. "What the hell? Skinner,   
what is going on?" he shouted after the   
older agent.

"Back up!" Skinner called again over his   
shoulder.

The alley ended and the killer hit the   
street, running down the middle for a   
block until he came to another alley.   
Skinner kept on his tail, gaining a   
little and then losing ground. Off in   
the distance, he heard sirens and just   
hoped he could hold out long enough for   
them to find him -- and the perpetrator!

Just when he thought he'd lost the man,   
Skinner caught sight of him crossing the   
street a block down. Swallowing the lump   
that was growing from the lack of   
moisture in his throat and pushing his   
legs past what he knew they could do, he   
put on a burst of speed and followed the   
killer down another alley.

He ran halfway down the alleyway when he   
realized it was a dead end. Stopping, he   
listened. The only sound was a dripping   
drainpipe and the hum of electricity from   
the overhead transformers. He could hear   
shouts in the distance; the sirens had   
stopped, indicating that Kallenbrunner's   
back up had arrived, but was probably   
pursuing on foot.

Slowly, Skinner turned around in a   
circle, searching the alley for any sign   
of his prey. Dumpsters lined one side   
and made for perfect hiding places in the   
dark shadows. It had been a while since   
he'd tracked a perp. He'd been riding a   
desk too damned long, he decided. Then   
again, he reconsidered; maybe it was   
about time to hang up his spurs, too.

Movement off to his left caught his   
attention. He'd drawn his weapon six   
blocks before so he brought it up to   
sighting level and trained it on the   
sound. A rat, nice and fat, sashayed   
across a puddle of an unidentifiable   
substance and continued down the alley   
unhindered. Skinner drew in a breath   
through his nose and went back to   
searching.

He took three steps forward, coming to   
within a few feet of one of the   
dumpsters. With his weapon trained in   
his right hand, he reached out with his   
left and lifted the plastic cover of the   
bin. Nothing. He shuffled over to his   
right and repeated the process. Again,   
just garbage greeted him. He was   
starting toward the third dumpster when   
he heard a sound from behind and spun   
around.

The blow knocked his glasses clean off   
his face. The world went blurry and   
flashed bright all at the same time. He   
could feel himself falling, could feel   
the cold, wet pavement underneath his   
knees and then he was down the rest of   
the way, coming to rest in a puddle of   
brownish grey liquid that smelled of   
rancid milk and bad lettuce. 

Someone was standing over him, and then   
kneeling beside him. He felt a hand at   
his neck, checking for a pulse.   
Blearily, Skinner tried to raise his   
head.

"Go home, Mr. Skinner. Before you get   
hurt," came a graveled voice from above.   
This time, Skinner could almost make out   
the object as it came down hard and fast   
toward his head, but there was not a   
thing he could have done to avoid it. 

As his world went black, Skinner hoped he   
lived to take the killer's advice.

 

Mt. Sinai Medical Center  
Los Angeles, CA  
9:00 am

How much had he drunk? That was the first   
question that popped into Skinner's mind when he   
started waking. Whatever he'd had, it must have   
been a doozy!

His head was reeling with pain and he was afraid to   
open his eyes, but he could hear noises that   
confused him. It sounded like wheels of a cart, one   
in desperate need of oiling, and sneakers on tile.   
Those were not the sounds he was accustomed to   
waking up to in his apartment. Curiosity beat out   
fear and he cracked open his left eye. Too blurry to   
make out much, but there was someone standing   
above his bed. That prompted him to crack open   
the other eye and blink away some of the blur.   
Where the hell were his glasses?

"Well, Mr. Skinner! Nice of you to join us," a   
woman in bright blue scrubs said cheerfully. "Just   
let me get your vitals. The doctor will be in to see   
you shortly."

Skinner squinted at the woman. "Where . . . where   
are my glasses?" he rasped.

The woman laughed merrily. "That's a first.   
Usually people want to know where they are when   
they wake up in the hospital. Your friend is just   
outside; maybe he knows what happened to them.   
You were brought in by ambulance. You have a   
concussion. Now, just lie back and let me finish   
and I'll let your friend back in."

Skinner did as she requested, but couldn't help   
wondering who the 'friend' was. He was extremely   
disoriented. The last thing he could remember was   
having lunch with Kim. No, that wasn't right. He'd   
gone on a trip. Where did he go? Thinking was   
just making his head hurt.

"All done. You're doing fine. Just rest and the   
doctor will be in before you know it. I'll let your   
friend in now to keep you company." He could just   
make out the woman's form as she exited the room.   
Another shape entered and walked up to his   
bedside.

"You're looking better than you did last night,"   
Kallenbrunner said.

Suddenly, more of the events of the last few days   
came back to him. Kallenbrunner . . . he was   
meeting him in LA. "Galbraith!" Skinner   
exclaimed and tried to sit up, but fell back when the   
pain washed over him.

Kallenbrunner put a hand on his shoulder and   
pressed him further into the pillow. "The doctor   
was pretty worried last night. Said a guy your age   
has no business doing field work," he said, barely   
suppressing a smirk. "You need to lie still."

"What happened? What happened to Galbraith?"   
Skinner demanded, but this time, stayed put.

The younger man licked his lips. "I . . . I don't   
know. It was . . . strange."

"Strange how? Just tell me damn it!"

"He melted, OK? He just . . . melted, into a pile of   
goo that bubbled and then it disappeared. It was . . .   
it couldn't have happened, but I saw it. It had to   
have been a fast acting acid -- "

"I've heard of this before," Skinner said, taking a   
deep breath.

"You've heard of it?" Kallenbrunner said with   
suspicion. "Where?"

"In a report by Agent Mulder. Actually, in several   
reports. And not just Mulder, Scully reported   
similar findings. The 'goo', as you put it, ate a hole   
through one of her shoes," he added, a ghost of a   
smile playing on his lips. "She requested   
reimbursement."

"For the shoes? After seeing something like that,   
she had the gall to ask for reimbursement for her   
_shoes_?"

Skinner shrugged. "They were nice shoes," he said   
casually. "And for the record, it wasn't acid. It was   
alien blood."

"Oh Jesus -- not that again! Skinner, you aren't   
going to get me to buy into this alien conspiracy   
take over the world bullshit that Mulder and Scully   
tried to pull at the trial. I'm not that gullible!"

"So, was there anything left to be analyzed?"   
Skinner asked glibly.

Kallenbrunner took a deep breath and found the   
bedrail very interesting. "No. Nothing. Forensics   
found nothing."

"An acid, even a fast acting acid, would leave trace   
evidence," Skinner pointed out.

"Maybe they just looked in the wrong place,"   
Kallenbrunner huffed.

"Fine, believe whatever you want. The fact of the   
matter is your boss, the last of the jury, is dead."

"You chased the killer. Did you get a good look at   
him?"

Skinner squinted again, but not from blurry   
eyesight. "I didn't, not really. I mean I saw him; he   
was the one that cold cocked me. He said   
something . . ." He trailed off, concentrating hard   
on the events of the night before. His head was   
killing him. Then, he remembered. His head jerked   
up and he tried to focus on Kallenbrunner. "He told   
me to go home, before I got hurt."

"You shittin' me," Kallenbrunner said dryly.

"No, I'm not. He could have killed me, but he   
didn't." 

Kallenbrunner slumped against the bed rail. "So   
what does this mean? Are we safe? You and me?   
Or just you," he asked, his voice accusing.

"You think I'm in on this?" Skinner charged back.   
"What the hell do you -- "

"Hey, time out! What's going on in here?" asked a   
gentleman in dusty blue green scrubs as he pushed   
open the door to the room. "Mr. Skinner, it's not a   
good idea to get so agitated after a head injury."   
The man walked up to the bed, moving   
Kallenbrunner aside. "If you don't mind waiting in   
the hall, this will just take a few minutes." 

As soon as Kallenbrunner left, the man extended his   
hand to Skinner. "Stephen Hatfield, I'm the neuro   
resident who saw you when you came in last night.   
Mind if I take a look?"

Skinner nodded. As the young man examined   
Skinner's eyes with a pen light, causing bright star   
burst of pain, he asked a few questions. "Do you   
have a headache, Mr. Skinner?"

"I do now," Skinner gritted out.

"Dizziness?" Skinner shook his head, but did it   
slowly to avoid more pain. "Blurred or double   
vision?"

"I have no idea. I've lost my glasses," Skinner   
growled.

"Oh, well, we can check your clothes, see if the   
paramedics stuck them in a pocket. Your x ray   
looked good this morning. You have a mild to   
moderate concussion. I'd like to keep you till   
tonight, see how you do. Then we'll release you.   
But you should go home and rest for a few days."

"Home is on the other side of the continent,   
Doctor."

Hatfield frowned. "Maybe you should consider a   
short vacation before you go back home. You   
really shouldn't be traveling with a head injury."

Skinner's mind flashed to Mulder, in a similar   
condition after Scully had been stung by a bee and   
abducted. "I'll take that under advisement," Skinner   
said evenly, but had no intentions of sticking around   
longer than necessary.

When the doctor left the room, Kallenbrunner came   
back in. "Uh, I guess you'll be needing these?" he   
asked, holding out Skinner's glasses. Gingerly, he   
took them from the other agent's outstretched hand   
and fitted them on his face. Only one small scratch   
marred the surface and that was in the far left corner   
of the left lens.

"Wow, they made it out better than I did," Skinner   
remarked. "And these aren't all that I need. I'll   
need a motel room for the night, maybe a couple of   
nights."

"What next?" Kallenbrunner asked warily.

"I guess I go back to DC," Skinner said dejectedly.   
"The last lead was Galbraith."

"I got to thinking about what the killer said to you.   
How did he know your name?"

Skinner drew in a breath and gave that question   
some thought. "I don't know. I've never seen him   
before. But then, maybe I have and I just didn't   
recognize him."

"Can you give a description? I could get a sketch   
artist in here," Kallenbrunner offered.

"I didn't get a good look, he knocked my glasses off   
before I could see his face. But I can give a   
description of his body type, that sort of thing.   
Might help."

"Somehow I don't think this guy is one of the usual   
suspects the LAPD rounds up every night,"   
Kallenbrunner said with a sigh.

"I suspect you're right. I also don't think he's on the   
Ten Most Wanted. Besides, he may not look like   
that the next time we see him."

"You think he'd try to disguise himself,"   
Kallenbrunner said with a frown.

"If what I've heard is right, he doesn't need a   
disguise. He'll just change his whole appearance.   
His face, his hair, his build. He can look like   
anyone he wants, the guy walking down the street   
toward him, you, me . . ."

"I saw this movie. Wasn't Dana Carvey the lead?"   
Kallenbrunner quipped, not hiding his incredulity.

Skinner set his jaw and glared back. "Look,   
asshole, I'm trying to help you," he seethed.

"By telling me I should look for a guy who can   
make himself look like anyone? That's a hell of a   
lot of help there, Skinner," the younger man   
chuffed. "I can't wait to see what the APB will   
read. 'Could be anybody'."

"We'll have to wait till he makes his next move."

"He obviously knows you. And he told you to go   
home. Maybe that's where you shouldn't go,"   
Kallenbrunner said after a moment.

"That's why I want to go to a motel. I'll figure   
something out," Skinner replied tiredly. He rubbed   
his forehead with one hand, his head was killing   
him. "Look, I think I probably should get some   
sleep here. If you don't mind -- "

"Do you think I should stick around, stand guard?"   
Kallenbrunner asked, genuinely concerned.

Skinner shook his head slowly; he'd learned his   
lesson earlier. "No need. You should go to the   
office. See what's going on; see if they found   
anything in that alley. I'll be fine."

"I'll be by later, to take you to that motel," the   
younger man said and left. Skinner watched the   
closed door for a few minutes and then took off his   
glasses and drifted off to sleep.

Ramada Limited LAX  
9:35 pm

The room was on the ground floor, and Skinner   
could have kissed the clerk for her kindness. He'd   
forgotten completely how bad headaches got with   
concussions. Of course, it had been a few years   
since he'd had a concussion. A few bruises, thanks   
to some run ins with Krycek. Bruised jaws,   
courtesy of Holly in Accounting and Mulder on   
LSD laced water. But for a concussion he had to go   
all the way back to his early days at the gym and a   
sparring partner who thought helmets were for   
sissies. Waking up in the hospital convinced   
Skinner he was just enough of a sissy to wear a   
helmet in the future.

Kallenbrunner had dropped him off in the lobby,   
saying he'd be back for him in the morning. No   
news to report on the Galbraith investigation. For   
that matter, there was no investigation. Skinner   
shook his head at the news, but wasn't that   
surprised. For whatever reason, the government   
wasn't making a stink over these disappearances.   
He wondered if they'd made any investigation at all,   
covert or otherwise. Maybe the powers there were   
decided they were better off not knowing. But   
Skinner wanted to know and he wasn't going to   
leave until he found out.

He sat down on the bed and slowly worked the knot   
out of his tie. Suit and tie man, that's what Sharon   
had called him years ago, when they were first   
dating. He just felt comfortable in a tie; unlike   
other guys he knew who couldn't get out of them   
fast enough. Rising from the bed, he decided to   
take a shower, even though the kindly doctor had   
cautioned him to take baths for a few days to avoid   
getting dizzy and falling in the bathroom. He   
wasn't that much of a sissy, yet.

The water felt wonderful as it ran over his sore   
body. The concussion had kept him in the hospital   
for observation, but when he'd taken off the stupid   
gown he discovered all the bruises he'd acquired as   
he'd fallen in the alley. Nice, multicolored   
markings all over his body. He sighed loudly. He   
was getting too old for this shit.

"Go home, Mr. Skinner. Before you get hurt." The   
words of the Bounty Hunter -- that's what he was,   
wasn't he -- came back to Skinner as he stood under   
the hot spray. He should be dead, but he wasn't.   
The Hunter could have killed him on the spot.   
What the hell was going on? He wished, not for the   
first time in the last two years, that he could turn to   
Mulder or Scully and ask that question. Mulder   
would rattle off some weird alien-government   
conspiracy bullshit and Scully would try to counter   
that with scientific mumbo-jumbo, but at least he'd   
have a semblance of an answer between them.   
Now, with just himself to ask, he felt like he was   
sliding down a fast moving river headed for the   
rapids and certain death just ahead.

He turned off the water and grabbed two towels.   
He thought briefly about shaving but decided he   
was just too tired to put a sharp object against his   
throat. He let the bathroom door open and walked   
into the bedroom in a cloud of steam.

He remembered taking his glasses off in the   
bathroom and stepped back in to retrieve them when   
his foot caught on something on the floor. He   
stooped to pick it up. It was a manila envelope,   
letter-sized. After putting on his glasses, he carried   
the envelope over to the bed and sat down to open   
it.

There was no marking on the outside, no 'to' or   
'from'. The thought crosses his mind that maybe he   
shouldn't open it, maybe it was a bomb, but he   
shoved down his trepidation and tore the flap.

Inside there was a single sheet of paper and a   
newspaper clipping. He set the clipping aside and   
looked at the full sheet of paper. It looked like the   
worksheet for a deed. It had been faxed at least   
once, was not straight on the page, but he found it   
easy enough to read. Owners names: G. Ellery and   
Dana Hale. The woman's name caught his attention   
immediately and he drew in a quick breath. He was   
aware that Mulder had several aliases, all supplied   
by the now deceased Lone Gunmen. Could G.   
Ellery be yet another of his names?

The more he sat with the paper, the more it called   
out to him. He picked up the clipping and scanned   
it. It was from the Mt. Airy Weekly Independent,   
dated May 21, 2004. 

"Births, Alexandria, MT. Twin girls, born May 19,   
2004 to Ellery and Dana Hale. Babies join older   
brother, William, aged 3. The family resides in   
rural Alexandria."

Could it be? He grabbed the other paper, the house   
was described with a township address, it must be   
rural, and it was in Alexandria, Montana. The deed   
was for June 23.

Skinner's mouth went dry. Two years without a   
scrap of evidence, without a single lead, and now   
this. He knew as well as he knew his own name   
that he'd found Mulder and Scully. He frowned   
when he realized that by keeping her name and   
William's name the couple had left them selves   
open to discovery.

William! Skinner felt a laugh bubble up in his   
throat. They found him. They had him with them!   
He looked at the clipping again. Obviously they felt   
comfortable enough where they were to continue   
the family they'd already started. Twin girls. What   
a handful! Mulder had even decided to put down   
roots, buy a home. Skinner's head was reeling with   
the implications.

Then, the other shoe dropped. Someone had given   
him this information, but whom? Gibson? Skinner   
thought back to his last conversation with the young   
man just a few days before. Gibson said he could   
feel that Mulder was happy, happier than he'd ever   
felt before. Well, the papers in Skinner's hands lent   
credence to that possibility. But had Gibson found   
them? 

No, if it had been Gibson, the young man would   
have come himself to tell Skinner. If it weren't safe   
to come to the motel, Gibson would have found a   
way to catch up with Skinner at another time. The   
young man didn't go in for the 'cloak and   
dagger/under the door' technique.

He closed his eyes in agony when he realized who   
might have given him this information. What if the   
Bounty Hunter knew where they were?

Shoving the paper and the clipping back in the   
envelope, Skinner walked over to his bag on the   
floor and grabbed out clothes, dressing quickly.   
Suddenly, he wasn't really that tired. He called   
down to the front desk and asked about the nearest   
rental car agency. They informed him that it was at   
the airport, and the airport shuttle could take him   
there. He thanked the night clerk and told the girl   
he would be checking out in half an hour.

He decided to call Kallenbrunner in the morning.   
There was no use alerting him when there was a   
chance the agent would try to talk him out of going.   
Since his bag was packed, for the most part, he   
gathered the clothes he'd discarded in the bathroom   
and looked around the room. The envelope was   
hastily tucked into the outer pocket of his suitcase.

Should he call Maggie? Skinner's gut clenched   
when he thought of how excited and happy Maggie   
would be at this news. But he couldn't tell her until   
he was sure. He felt the need to get to Montana as   
quickly as possible. Once there, he could call her,   
or have Dana call her.

In a little over two hours, he was turned off   
Interstate 10 on to Interstate 15, heading north.

Salt Lake City, Utah  
I-15 rest area  
8:05 am

Skinner had stopped for breakfast at a McDonald's   
but the coffee wasn't enough to keep his eyes open   
any longer. Not wanting to stay off the road for   
long, he'd pulled into a rest area just outside Salt   
Lake City and had closed his eyes for a bit. He   
woke up to the ring of his cellphone.

"Skinner," he answered wearily. He then   
remembered he'd neglected to call Kallenbrunner,   
who was probably at the motel wondering where the   
hell he'd run off.

"Walter?" came the voice on the other end of the   
line. "Walter, it's Maggie, Maggie Scully. I'm   
sorry, did I wake you?"

Instantly alert, Skinner sat up straighter in the seat.   
"Mrs. Scully, hello. No, you didn't wake me, I was,   
uh, just . . ."

"I called your office but they said you were on   
vacation. I'm sorry if I disturbed you."

"No, that's quite all right. What can I do for you?"

There was silence on the line and Skinner almost   
thought he'd lost the connection. "Maggie?"

"I . . . it's silly. I shouldn't have bothered you," she   
said quickly.

"No, no it's not. You're not bothering me. Maggie,   
what's wrong?" he asked gently. For some reason   
his mind flashed to Scully and how fragile she   
looked after they had buried Mulder. "Please, tell   
me what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, really. I just . . . I had a dream,   
you see. I was cleaning out some of Dana's things   
and I . . ."

He bit his lip when he figured out that she was   
crying. "It's all right, you can tell me," he   
encouraged.

"I dreamed about Dana. About Dana and Fox. I   
dreamed they were safe."

He sighed in relief. "That's good," he said. "That's   
a good thing to dream about."

"But there was more," Maggie insisted. "I saw   
them with two little babies, newborns. I think, I   
think they may have -- "

He ached with the need to tell her, but knew it was   
too soon. "Maggie, I have to go. I'm sorry. But I'm   
really happy you called. You hang on to that   
dream, OK? Just keep praying and hopefully soon   
you'll find what you're looking for."

"I hope so, Walter. I hope so with all my heart,"   
Maggie said, sniffing back tears. "Well, you have a   
nice vacation. You've earned it."

"Thanks," he replied guiltily. "I'll call you soon,   
OK?"

"Yes, thank you. Take care," Maggie said.

"You, too," he replied and disconnected the phone.   
Suddenly, he wasn't so tired anymore. Putting the   
phone back in his pocket, he pulled the car out onto   
the highway and headed north toward Montana. 

He thought about the best approach. Should he   
show up at their door? It would be late, more than   
likely. He didn't want to scare Scully, not with   
three little kids in the house. He decided to do some   
checking first. Now that he had a name, he could   
get farther. He pulled his cell phone out of his   
pocket again and hit some buttons. Thankfully, not   
everyone in the Bureau hated him.

"Kim, it's Walter. Could you do me a favor? I need   
you to ask Danny to do some research. It needs to   
be kept quiet."

"Walter, you're alive! When I hadn't heard from   
you in a few days . . ."

The guilt hit him harder than he expected. "I'm   
fine, Kim. I'm sorry I worried you."

"That's all right. Have you found anything?" she   
asked.

"I'm on the trail of a lead right now. I just need   
some work history on someone. Ask Danny to see   
what he can find on a G. Ellery Hale, resides in   
Alexandria, Montana."

"Sure thing. Should I have him call you on your   
cell phone?"

Skinner bit his lip. "Or you could call me back with   
it," he offered. He tried, but couldn't ignore the   
urge to hear her voice again.

Her voice sounded lighter when she answered. He   
could almost hear her smile. "Sure, I can do that. I   
should have something for you in a couple of hours.   
Are you driving?"

"Yeah, I am." 

"Oh, well, I can't fax you anything, then. But I'll   
call as soon as I have something. Be careful, OK?"

"I will, Kim. And thanks . . . for everything."

"You're welcome, Walter. I'll call you soon."

Hale Household  
9:06 am

Father and son were in the backyard, amid a   
glorious summer morning. The yard had been   
transformed recently. Although considerable   
lumber and construction equipment was taking up   
the front yard, the backyard now looked like a Little   
League Baseball camp, complete with paced off   
bases. Mulder and William stood on the pitchers   
mound.

"OK, sport, now Dad wants to teach you the fine art   
of the knuckleball," Mulder said with a wink as he   
knelt down beside his son.

"Chuckleball," William repeated incorrectly, but   
with all the seriousness of the answer to a question   
on an orals review.

"Knuckle, William. Knuckleball. See, see how   
Daddy has his knuckles right up against the ball?   
And when you throw the ball, it doesn't spin so it   
flies funny. Like this," he said, giving the ball a   
pitch and the two, father and son, watched it wobble   
through the air toward the net backstop Mulder had   
ordered from the internet. "See? Did you see how   
it went all wiggy? The pitcher won't know what's   
coming at him. He'll think it's going way over out   
of his strike zone so he won't swing at it."

William nodded solemnly. "Can I try, Daddy?"

"Sure thing, son. Here, just give me your hand."   
Mulder took the small boy's hand and tried to   
fashion the fingers around the Rawlings leather ball   
in the traditional knuckle grip, but soon discovered   
there was a growth issue involved. William's   
toddler hands were small and the fingers were still   
too stubby to get around the ball. "Well, maybe   
we'll have to practice it on a tennis ball for a while.   
Let's go find one of those fuzzy green balls Mommy   
uses when she plays with Aunt Mary."

"Are you intending on going to class today?" Scully   
called from the back door to the kitchen. 

"Aw, Mom. Can't you call me in sick?" Mulder   
shot back with a wide grin. Scully made a face at   
him and retreated back into the kitchen.

"Daddy, are you sick?" William asked anxiously as   
he looked up at his father.

"No, buddy, no. I just wanted to play hooky. Stay   
home and play with you," Mulder answered   
truthfully, then realized that probably wasn't the   
best answer because it might lead to more   
questions.

"But you have to teach class so the students can   
learn," William countered, his expression just as   
solemn as when he was concentrating on the   
knuckleball technique.

"I know, I know. But sometimes, when the day is   
this pretty and warm and you've got a good friend to   
play with -- "

"I'm the good friend, right?" Will asked hopefully.

"You're my best friend, buddy," Mulder answered,   
lifting his son up into his arms. "You and your   
Mom and your sisters. You are all my best friends.   
My best friends and my family. I love you so   
much," he added, hugging the boy close.

"You're my best friend, Daddy," William agreed.

They made their way into the kitchen, which was   
organized chaos at that moment. Meg had Sammi   
in the infant bathtub on the kitchen table, the baby   
was cooing as she splashed in the water. Scully was   
sitting at the table, talking to Missy, who was   
nursing again. Occasionally a workman would   
come through to fill his coffee thermos and head   
back to the construction on the far end of the house.

"You'd been get moving or you'll be late," Scully   
warned. "It's already after 9."

"I'm always the first one there," Mulder pointed out   
as he started to fill his own travel mug with coffee   
but noticed the carafe only had half a cup. "What   
happened to the coffee?"

"I can't have all those men working back there and   
not offer them coffee," Scully said as if it were   
perfectly self-evident. "Here, you can take the rest   
of mine."

"It's decaf," Mulder whined. "And you put milk in   
it," he added with a frown.

"I made a new pitcher of tea just a few minutes ago.   
It's in the fridge," Meg offered with a grin.

"You're a life saver, Meggie," Mulder told her and   
went about filling his travel mug with iced tea. 

William came up behind Mulder and hugged him   
around the legs. "Play hooky, Daddy," he begged.

"I would, buddy, but I really need to get to class.   
You can stay and play with Meg. How does that   
sound?"

"Meggie's my friend," Will told his father.

"And you are my friend," Meg told the little boy   
with a smile.

"This is just a very friendly place," Mulder   
pronounced and looked around for his briefcase,   
which he finally found next to the front door.   
Scully was behind him, carrying Missy, who was   
still nursing.

"Doesn't that hurt, doing that while you're   
walking?" Mulder asked with a wince.

"Not at all. As a matter of fact, Mulder, women   
long ago used to carry their babies with them into   
the fields as they worked."

He leaned in close, so that only Scully could hear.   
"Bet you couldn't autopsy like that," he said with a   
smirk.

"Try me," she countered with a self-satisfied grin   
and gave him a kiss goodbye.

"I will, later. I'm late. Love you!" he called as he   
bounded down the front porch steps.

It was a forty minute drive on a nice day, when   
Mulder was fairly certain the Montana Highway   
Patrol wasn't watching, so he made it just in time to   
get to his class and set up the projector and DVD.   
Soon, the classroom was filled with students,   
mostly girls, he now noted after his conversation   
with Scully a few mornings before. "All right   
people, wipe the sleep out of your eyes, break out   
the jujubes and Mike and Ikes, we have a classic on   
our hands. I found '13 Ghosts' -- the original, not   
that crummy remake, on Netflix the other night.   
Remember, we're analyzing the plot -- "

"Plot? What plot?" joked a tan young man in the   
second row.

"Very funny, Mr. Andrews," Mulder retorted in a   
perfect deadpan. "If you can keep your eyes off   
Ms. Halstrom halter top and up here on the screen   
for the length of the movie, I think you will find that   
there is indeed a plot, and a pretty complex one.   
Mr. Bailey, if you would be so kind as to hit the   
lights?"

An hour and a half later, there was a loud gasp as   
Mulder turned off the DVD right at a particularly   
suspenseful moment. "That's all the time we have   
today, kiddies. We'll finish this up on Thursday."

"Dr. Hale, has anyone ever told you that you're a   
sadist?" asked the young Mr. Andrews.

"If you're that into the movie, Jared, just rent it. Or   
better yet, show up on Thursday. Seems like you   
have a problem getting to both classes during the   
week," Mulder said, folding his arms.

"I work on Wednesday nights," the young man   
admitted with a blush. "I only oversleep on   
Thursdays."

"Hey, I tended bar to get through college, too. I   
know it's rough, but sometimes you just have to   
drag your sorry -- butt -- out of bed and get to class,   
ya know," Mulder commiserated.

A young lady with a flower tube top and cut off   
jeans waited for him at the door. "Dr. Hale, I lost   
my syllabus," she said with a sorrowful expression.

"Did I just give you one last week, Lindsay?"   
Mulder asked as he walked down the hall of the   
academic building, with the girl trailing behind him.

"You did, but I put it in my car and I think my little   
brother made it into spit ball. I need another one,"   
she said with a hopeful smile.

Mulder shook his head and opened the door to the   
English Department offices. The Department   
secretary, Miss Jenkins, looked up quickly when   
they entered the room. 

"Lindsay needs another syllabus, Miss Jenkins,"   
Mulder said as he headed toward the little office   
that was assigned to him and another professor.

"Dr. Hale, when you have a minute?" Miss Jenkins   
said formally. Mulder was still getting used to Miss   
Jenkins. He suspected the woman was older than   
many of the buildings on campus. The professor he   
shared his office with had jokingly said the old bat   
was actually the ghost of the former Department   
secretary who simply refused to leave her post. 

He dropped his briefcase on his desk and grimaced.   
Whenever he had to deal with Miss Jenkins he   
could never shake the feeling he was being called to   
the principal's office. Or called on the carpet in   
Skinner's office. 

That thought caused a twinge in his chest. He'd   
never burdened Scully, but she wasn't the only one   
who sometimes missed their old life. He often   
wondered how AD Skinner had fared since their last   
meeting, provided the man had even survived the   
backlash that had caused the disappearance of DD   
Kersh from the FBI org chart he'd found on line.   
He'd noticed that AD Skinner's name was not   
among the phone listings. That saddened him more   
than he was willing to admit.

"Dr. Hale?" Miss Jenkins called. He realized he'd   
been woolgathering while the 'old bat' was waiting.   
It was time to face the music.

"Yes, Miss Jenkins? If it's about replacing the   
carafe to the coffeemaker, I promise, I'll pick up a   
new one before next week."

"Oh, yes, the carafe. Thank you, but that's not why   
I needed to talk to you," she said primly. "There   
was a gentleman here earlier today asking for you."

"A man? Asking for me? A student or maybe a   
parent?" For some reason, it disturbed Mulder   
greatly that someone had been looking for him. If   
Scully had been around she would have accused   
him of being 'Spooky' again.

"Yes. A nice gentleman, fifties, I would say. He   
wore a nice suit but was terribly wrinkled. Bald,   
wire rimmed glasses . . ."

Mulder's heart froze in his chest. The description   
Miss Jenkins had given was Walter Skinner. But   
could it really be Walter Skinner? He'd seen too   
much to take things at face value. But if it really   
was Skinner, what was he doing here, in Montana?   
"Did he leave a name?" he asked anxiously.

"No, he didn't, though I did ask. He said he would   
be by later, after class. I directed him to the student   
center for coffee, since our coffee pot is inoperable   
at the moment," she said and went back to her   
typing.

"Um, thanks." Mulder turned and went back to his   
office. He sat at his desk with the lights still off.   
What should he do? Call Scully? Leave? Go   
home, pack up the kids and the five of them head   
for the hills, Canada, Mexico, anywhere they could   
drive until they ran out of land?

But on the other hand, what if it really was Skinner   
and he needed their help? Could he run from their   
old boss? Could he deny anything to the man who'd   
risked his career and his life to save Mulder from   
certain death? 

Nervously, he chewed on his bottom lip and   
watched the door. When it opened a few minutes   
later, he jumped a foot and then forced himself to   
relax.

"If you don't mind taking a seat, I'll see if Dr. Hale   
is in," Miss Jenkins said formally. Mulder could   
hear them plainly. Hell, anyone in the outer office   
could probably hear Mulder's heart pounding in his   
chest. Miss Jenkins tapped on the doorframe, since   
he'd inadvertently left the door open and smiled   
thinly at him.

"Your visitor is here, Dr. Hale," she said and stood   
aside. Mulder nodded, wiped his sweating palms on   
his pants legs and rose stiffly. He walked slowly   
toward the outer office and Jenkins gave him a look   
that bordered on impatient disgust. He cleared his   
throat and looked at the man sitting in one of the   
waiting room chairs.

Walter Skinner had been watching the door to the   
hallway when Mulder entered, but he jerked his   
head around and up to face the young man. For a   
moment, neither moved, neither spoke. Then,   
slowly, Skinner rose to his feet. He seemed   
nervous, almost as nervous as Mulder felt.   
Carefully, he extended his hand. Holding it so that   
Miss Jenkins didn't notice, a small cut probably   
made by a penknife, marred the surface of his index   
finger. A tiny drop of bright red blood hung to the   
edge of the cut. Mulder's breath caught in his throat   
and his fought the urge to touch the blood. Their   
eyes met and Mulder nodded. "If you could join   
me?" he said, jerking his head toward the door to   
his office.

"Certainly, Dr. Hale," Skinner replied and smiled   
wanly at Miss Jenkins, who was already back at her   
typing.

Mulder led the way into the office and then moved   
to close the door. As soon as the door shut, both   
men let out a breath of relief. "Sir, what are you   
doing here?"

"Mulder, my god, I never thought, I didn't think I'd   
ever find you," Skinner said in a rushed whisper. 

"How did you find me?" Mulder asked tersely.

"You bought a house. The information was slipped   
to me."

"In DC?" Mulder prodded.

"No, in Los Angeles. It's a long story."

Mulder crossed his arms. "I have time."

Skinner remembered the other times he'd felt like   
this, under Mulder's microscope. He knew the   
younger man trusted him, probably as much as he   
trusted anyone aside from Dana Scully, but that   
wasn't saying much. Skinner looked around the   
room, wondering if that was the best place for their   
discussion. Suddenly, he eyes rested on a framed   
photograph on the windowsill beside Mulder's desk.

In the picture, a smiling Mulder sat beside a radiant   
Scully, his arm around her waist. William was   
perched on his father's knee, mugging it up for the   
camera. Scully's lap was taken up by a bulging   
maternity dress; her face was full, as it had been   
when she was carrying William. 

Mulder watched the reaction on his former boss's   
face. "That was taken on our anniversary," he said   
with a fond smile.

"Anniversary? You're married?" Skinner asked.

Mulder winced. "Not exactly. Scully has decided   
that we -- well, we treat March 6 as our anniversary.   
People around here think we've been married 12   
years."

Skinner frowned without understanding and then he   
slowly nodded. "That was the day Scully was   
assigned to the X Files, wasn't it?"

"The day after, actually. It was the day we left for   
Oregon, on our first case," Mulder corrected.

In the darkened room, Skinner wiped at his eye and   
cleared his throat. "You both -- all three of you   
look very happy," he said. "You had twins? Twin   
girls?"

Mulder looked at Skinner warily. 

"The same way I found out about the house,"   
Skinner explained with a shrug.

"Which means you aren't the only one who knows,"   
Mulder said flatly.

"I had to do some digging to find you, Mulder. And   
it was a long shot." Skinner was suddenly very   
tired. He sat heavily on the old battered couch   
along the wall. "I went to the Van de Kamps," he   
said evenly. "Gibson Praise was there. He told me   
William was gone and he believed he was with   
you."

"The Van de Kamps were clones," Mulder said,   
perching on the edge of his desk. Skinner raised his   
eyebrow and Mulder shrugged on shoulder. "I can't   
tell you how we got there, how we found him. I just   
. . . I had a little help from above. But when we   
arrived, there were two puddles of green goo on the   
floor, and I found William in a crib in the basement.   
It looked like they'd built the nursery down there on   
purpose. I think the rock walls of the basement had   
magnetite in them. There was a hole in the wall   
near the crib."

"My god," Skinner gasped.

"We must have just missed the action, because   
William was screaming but he was fine. Not   
dehydrated or anything. He was hungry." Mulder   
smiled at the memory of their first stop and   
discovering that Scully's milk had come back in.   
"We didn't stick around to ask questions."

"The farm was burned to the ground, recently from   
the looks of it. For a while, I thought he was still   
there, that they had been burned in the fire," Skinner   
explained. He looked back up at Mulder. "Clones?   
How could that be? I made the contacts, I made   
sure that everything was handled --"

"Sir, Walter, you can't blame yourself. Even if they   
were clones, they were taking good care of him. I   
sometimes wonder if they were just waiting for us   
to come get him. But the others, those hybrids -- "

"The supersoldiers," Skinner interrupted.

"Whatever they are, like Rohrer, they must have   
gotten there first. But they didn't touch him. He   
was perfect. Still, we got as far away from there as   
we could that first day. We came north and settled   
here."

"You've been here all this time, two years?"

Mulder nodded. "We thought we were off their   
radar," he said sadly.

"Something has been happening. The men who   
were on your jury, the ones Gibson told us weren't   
human, they're systematically being killed."

"What's been turned up during the investigations?"   
Mulder asked, leaning forward with interest.

"That's just it. There haven't been any   
investigations. It's being covered up. They just   
cease to exist. They have no families to put up any   
protest. They're names are removed -- it's like they   
never existed."

"But within the Bureau -- " Mulder blurted,   
confusion plain on his face.

"I don't know what to tell you, Mulder. I'm no   
longer in a position to know what goes on at the   
top," Skinner said, holding his hands out in a sign of   
resigned frustration.

"They didn't fire you, did they?"

"No. Worse. They put me in VCS as an agent. I'm   
not even allowed in the field. Remember your old   
duty on background checks?" He waited for the   
young man to grimace and nod. "I think I have   
your old chair."

"Damn it," Mulder huffed out a curse. 

"Look, I came to warn you as much as to see you   
again. I knew that if you were here, had been here   
long enough to settle in, that you wouldn't be   
expecting anyone to come after you now."

Mulder rubbed his face with his left hand. "I want   
you to come back home with me."

Skinner shook his head. "No, Mulder, that would   
be too dangerous. The last murder occurred in Los   
Angeles. Agent Kallenbrunner and I both witnessed   
it." 

At the former prosecutor's name, Mulder flinched.

"It's all right. We're sort of on the same side. At   
first I thought he might be in danger, that the   
murderer might come after everyone at the trial.   
But when Galbriath was killed in LA, I chased the   
killer down an alley. He had every opportunity to   
kill me. But he didn't."

"Maybe someone scared him off," Mulder   
suggested.

"No, he even spoke to me, right before he punched   
my lights out. He told me to go home, before I got   
hurt."

"Not the usual greeting card of a killer," Mulder   
mused.

"My thought precisely. But he might be following   
me now and I can't risk leading him to your home.   
Not with Scully and the little ones there."

Mulder chewed on his lip and then reached behind   
him to grab the phone. Hastily he dialed a couple of   
numbers and pursed his lips, waiting for the pick up   
on the other end.

"Scully, it's me. I've got someone in my office who   
doesn't know the meaning of the words 'you're   
coming home with me.' Do you think you could   
persuade him?" He then handed the phone over to   
Skinner with a shit-eating grin.

Skinner's eyes flared as he took the phone and put it   
to his ear. "Scully, it's Walter. Walter Skinner."   
He had to hold the phone out to avoid a busted   
eardrum. He tried, unsuccessfully, to get a word in   
edgewise, but in the end, he was nodding, even   
though the other party couldn't see him do it.

"Yes, of course. But I don't want to be a bother --   
No, that' wasn't what I was implying. No, I'll be   
there. We'll be leaving -- " he looked up at Mulder   
for a time and the man glanced at his watch and   
held up three fingers. " -- three o'clock, I guess.   
Yes, I'll do that." He glared at Mulder as he handed   
him the phone. "You set me up."

"Sure as shootin'," Mulder said with a smile. He   
took the phone and talked to his partner for a few   
brief minutes and then hung up with an "I love   
you."

"Well, I have a class in an hour, so let's head over to   
the local McDonald's and I'll let you spring for   
lunch. Then, you're welcome to hang out here, or   
sit in the class."

"What are you teaching? Psychology?" Skinner   
asked, following Mulder out of the office.

"English. I have two sections this summer. Intro to   
novels and Horror movies: fact or fiction."

Skinner rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Why   
am I not surprised?" 

 

Hale Household  
4:00 pm

"Honey, I'm home," Mulder quipped as he ushered   
Skinner into the house. "And I brought the boss   
home with me. Remember, no witchcraft."

Skinner just rolled his eyes. Mulder was enjoying   
himself too much. Suddenly, from the hallway, a   
ball of blue and red streaked across the floor and   
attached itself to Mulder's leg.

"Hi Daddy!" squealed William, hugging on for dear   
life as Mulder tried to walk with the new appendage   
on his leg.

"Hey, buddy! Did you have fun today?" Mulder   
asked. Will nodded vigorously. "Good. I want you   
to meet someone."

Will looked up and noticed that his father was not   
alone. His eyes grew to the size of saucers and he   
sidestepped his way around Mulder's legs until he   
was peeking out from behind them. Skinner tried to   
look as non-threatening as possible.

Mulder saw his son's reaction and smiled. "He's not   
used to a lot of people. We have some friends and   
Scully and I take him to church, but we're pretty   
isolated out here."

"I understand," Skinner said casually.

Mulder knelt down so that he was eye-level with the   
boy. "William, remember Mommy and me telling   
you stories about where we used to live and the   
people there?" The little boy was chewing on his   
bottom lip, an exact replica of his father under   
stress, but he nodded in acknowledgement. "Well,   
this is Walter Skinner."

At that, William's eyes lit up and he smiled a big   
toothy grin. "Uncle Walter!" he cried out and   
lunched toward Skinner's legs, almost knocking the   
man over in the process. 

Skinner was stunned, but recovered quickly and   
picked the child up into his arms. "Hi, William.   
Boy, you sure have grown since the last time I saw   
you."

"I was a baby!" William confirmed. "We used to   
live far away, but now we live here by the Old   
Man."

Skinner looked over at Mulder for interpretation.   
"The mountain behind the house. During certain   
times of the day it sort of looks like an old man,"   
Mulder explained. Skinner nodded.

"Walter?" At the sound of her voice, Skinner jerked   
his head up and saw Scully standing in the doorway,   
a smile on her face.

Scully looked years younger than he last   
remembered. Her hair was longer, pulled back in a   
ponytail that made her look like a teenager. She   
was wearing denim pants cut just below her knees   
and a loose shirt that looked like it could have   
belonged to Mulder, the sleeves rolled to her elbows   
and the shirttails knotted at her waist. This was not   
the world-weary traveler who had begged his help   
to save her partner's life on that night two years ago.   
This woman was whole and happy.

"Walter," she said again and this time stepped   
forward to encircle his waist in a hug. She looked   
up at him and smiled. "You're a sight for sore eyes.   
C'mon, dinner's almost ready. I made beef stew and   
biscuits."

"I thought that's what I smelled," Mulder grinned   
appreciatively. "C'mon, buddy. Let's show Uncle   
Walt where he can wash up."

They had just finished dinner, Skinner couldn't   
remember when he'd last tasted food, much less   
enjoyed it so much, when the small radio on the   
cabinet let out an ear-piercing squeal.

"Sammi's awake," William said knowingly.

When a second cry joined the first, he smiled   
brightly. "Missy's awake, too, Mommy," he told his   
mother.

"How is it they always seem to know when we're   
eating?" Mulder groused as Scully pushed away   
from the table.

"They are your daughters, Mulder. They probably   
smell the food," she said. "You guys finish up.   
Meggie made banana cake this afternoon. Will,   
show Daddy where you helped her put the cake. I'll   
be down when I get them fed."

"Call when you want to come down. I'll help   
carry," Mulder called to her retreating back.

"The cake is in the pantie, Daddy," Will said,   
pointing to the back of the kitchen. 

"Pant-REE, Will. I'll get it. Can you get little   
plates and clean forks?"

Will nodded and scurried over to the cupboard. He   
pushed a step stool into place and scrambled up it,   
allowing him to reach the requested plates.   
Carefully, he counted. "One - two - three -- Daddy,   
do I count Mommy?"

"You know Mommy loves banana cake, Will.   
Better count her, too," Mulder answered. 

Skinner watched in awe. Mulder carried a metal   
cake pan over to the table and pulled a spatula from   
the crock sitting next to the stove. By this time Will   
had placed the plates and forks on the table and had   
already crawled up into his booster seat,   
anticipation on his chubby face. Mulder looked   
over at his former superior and raised an eyebrow.

"Something wrong, Walt?" he asked, concerned.

"I just . . . I just didn't . . . I don't know what I   
expected but -- " Skinner was having trouble   
putting his feelings into words. "I guess I thought   
you'd be in hiding."

"Living in ratty motels, changing hair color each   
time we moved, never staying in one place more   
than a week or two?" Mulder supplied.

Skinner looked up abruptly and held Mulder's gaze.   
"Yeah, I guess so."

Mulder cut the cake and placed a small piece on one   
plate, placing it in front of William. He cut three   
larger pieces and placed them each on plates,   
handing one to Skinner and keeping one for   
himself. He put the last piece at Scully's place for   
her return. "We did, you know," he said after he'd   
sat down, his cake untouched. 

Skinner kept silent, eating his cake, but looked over   
at Mulder.

"That first night, after we'd had the run in with that   
black lunged -- you know who and we'd escaped the   
black helicopters, we ended up in a motel in   
Roswell." Skinner cracked a smile as Mulder   
continued. "We fully intended to hit the road the   
next day and keep running, just as you thought we   
did."

"What changed your mind?" Skinner asked.

Mulder's eyes drifted over to his son and his lips   
formed a soft, fond smile. "We'd forgotten to pack   
something," he said simply.

"But how . . . how did you find . . .?" Skinner didn't   
want to say too much in front of the boy, it was   
obvious this 'little pitcher' had inherited his father's   
'big ears', not to mention an innate intelligence from   
both his parents.

"I had a dream, a vision, I don't know what you   
would call it. My father and Scully's, they came to   
me and told me where to find . . . what we were   
missing most. I drove straight there, the next day. I   
didn't even tell Scully for fear it might just have   
been a stupid dream, that it wasn't real. But he was   
there, as I told you, in that basement. God, I'd never   
been so happy and so scared in my life," Mulder   
admitted with a smile. "And that was it. That   
night, the second night we were on the run, I was   
told to come here. I didn't know what I'd find,   
didn't know how we were going to fit in. It just all   
worked."

Skinner pulled off his glasses on the pretense of   
cleaning them, but Mulder caught him wiping his   
eyes when the older man thought he wasn't looking.   
"I'm glad. I hated the thought that . . . well, let's be   
honest, you two had been through more circles of   
hell -- "

"'Heck,' Uncle Walter. Mommy don't like naughty   
words," William advised him in hushed tones.

Skinner bit the inside of his cheek to keep from   
laughing. "No, I seem to remember that about your   
mother," he agreed.

Skinner helped Mulder and Will clean up after   
dinner. Scully called down a little while after and   
Mulder ran up the stairs to help her carry the twins   
down to see their 'Uncle Walter' too. The three   
adults talked quietly while Mulder rocked one baby   
and Scully held the other, Will playing with Legos   
at their feet. When the clock on the mantel chimed   
8 o'clock, Will started to whine. "I wanna stay up   
with Uncle Walter," he said, rubbing his eye with   
one little fist.

"Uncle Walter will be here in the morning. Maybe   
you can show him how to make oatmeal," Mulder   
suggested, lifting the small boy up onto his   
shoulders. "Tell Uncle Walter 'good night'."

"'Night, Uncle Walter."

"I'll be back to help with the girls in a minute,"   
Mulder said as he headed for the stairs.

"Can I help?" Skinner asked, almost afraid they   
might take him up on the offer.

"Sure," Scully said easily. "Here, you take Missy   
and I'll take Sammi," she told him. Carefully, she   
placed the infant in Skinner's large hands. He was   
immediately enraptured by the tiny life he held so   
close to his heart.

"She's so light," he commented. 

"Thank heavens," Scully said breezily. "Believe   
me, they felt like a lead balloon those last few   
weeks before delivery."

Skinner ended up being pressed into service reading   
William 'Dinosaur's Blanket', a story the boy knew   
by heart and kept encouraging the former Assistant   
Director when the man stumbled over the phrasing.   
Finally, with nightlights on and kisses given, all was   
quiet upstairs and the adults retreated to the living   
room.

"So you think they were supersoldiers?" Scully   
asked, sitting cross-legged on the sofa next to   
Mulder.

"I don't know what they were, Scully. I just know   
that they've been in positions of power within the   
Bureau for the last two years. And now, they're   
being systematically eliminated."

"Like the Smiths? Like the Igor clones?" Mulder   
mused aloud.

"The supersoldiers could only be killed by   
magnetite and even then it takes incredible   
concentrations. Still, why would there be one man -  
\- "

"Maybe not a man, Scully," Mulder interrupted.

"OK," she agreed with a frown, "one 'entity' going   
after all of them. From what I gathered there were   
hundreds all over the world. Maybe even   
thousands."

"I don't know," Skinner said with a frustrated growl   
as he leaned against the fireplace. "I can only report   
what I know and what I saw with my own eyes."

Scully smiled at him. "I know the feeling," she said   
with a wink. She turned serious and looked over at   
her partner. "Do you think he'll come for William?"

Mulder closed his eyes and let his head fall back   
against the sofa. "It's possible. Maybe even   
probable. Tell me more about this Josepho   
character, the one who tried to take William," he   
said to Scully.

She shook her head. "No, no, I won't accept that   
they're connected," she said emphatically.

"Scully, they're killing supersoldiers. You were   
told once that William was thought to be -- "

"No! Mulder, he's your son. Your DNA. He's not   
an experiment!"

"Scully, the experiment claim was just a red   
herring. I know he's mine, I see me in his looks, his   
attitude and I'm not talking the fact that he's around   
me to mimic me. But think about my life before   
William was conceived. I was infected with the   
alien virus, not once but twice. That could have   
changed my DNA. I was so profoundly affected by   
the rubbings on that spacecraft that I almost died. I   
had a growth in my brain, Scully. And we never   
knew what they did to you, not entirely. Yes, they   
took your ova, but not all of them, as we've proven   
twice already. Maybe they weren't harvesting as we   
thought. Maybe they were pruning, so that only the   
right ova remained."

Tears were streaming down her face as she glared at   
Mulder. "They are our babies, Mulder. How can   
you talk about them -- "

He softened and pulled her into an embrace,   
stroking her hair. "I know they are our babies. I   
love them. I would die for them, just as I would die   
for you. I'm not saying they're freaks, I'm saying   
they're special. And the qualities that make them   
special could also put them in danger."

"What are you saying?" she asked, pulling back to   
meet his gaze.

"Maybe we should consider leaving. Moving on."

"Running," she said flatly.

"For a while. Just until we think it's safe," he   
offered. At that, she hugged him again and the tears   
started once more.

"Jeff Spender said he cured William," Scully   
sobbed into his shirt.

"But what about the dream?" Mulder whispered.   
"The bad dream William had just a few nights ago."

"Daddy, Mommy?" All three adults looked up   
suddenly as William appeared, sleepy eyed, in the   
doorway to the living room.

"Hey, buddy," Mulder said. Scully sat up and   
Mulder opened his arms to the boy. "C'mere. Did   
we wake you?"

William shook his head, but crawled up on Mulder's   
lap. Scully had turned away, wiping her eyes   
before turning to smile at her son and ruffle his hair.

"Too much excitement, having Uncle Walter here,   
huh, Sweetheart?"

"No, Mommy. Missy and Sam woke me."

Scully looked over at the baby monitor on the side   
table and frowned. "We didn't hear them."

"No," William said, with the same exasperated look   
Mulder often affected. "Not the babies. The other   
Missy and Sam. The ladies!"

Mulder drew in a deep breath and licked his lips.   
"What did they say this time, Will?" he asked   
cautiously.

"They said to tell you to stay here. It will all be   
OK."

Scully glanced over at Mulder. He shook his head   
from side to side. Skinner watched them and waited   
for an explanation. When one wasn't forthcoming,   
he spoke up.

"Ladies? What's he talking about?"

"It's late, buddy. Daddy will take you up to bed and   
tuck you in."

"Daddy, they said we'd be OK. We just have to   
believe," the little boy insisted as his father hefted   
him in his arms and started walking toward the   
stairs. "And they said to tell Mommy not to cry."

Scully bit her lip but kept silent. She waved a timid   
good night to her son and blew him a quick kiss.

"Scully?" Skinner asked when they heard Mulder's   
heavy footsteps in the upstairs hall.

"He has dreams, Walter. We think . . . we think   
maybe he has visitations."

"Visitations? That sounds religious," Skinner said   
slowly.

"Visitations from his dead aunts. You do the math,"   
Scully said wearily.

"And what he was talking about -- about staying   
here? That came from . . ."

"My sister Melissa and Mulder's sister Samantha,"   
Scully said, drawing in a deep breath.

Skinner's jaw dropped open. "You aren't suggesting   
\-- "

"Still can't believe, Walter?" Scully teased with a   
sad smile. "Yes, I am suggesting. I've had a visit   
myself."

Mulder rejoined them, settling back on the sofa and   
drawing Scully back toward him to rest against his   
shoulder. "So, I guess that handles that problem."

"We have to believe," Scully said putting her hand   
on his chest and straightening up. "But we don't   
have to wait here like sitting ducks."

"You want to get reinforcements?" Mulder asked.

"I think we should call Kallenbrunner," Skinner said   
quietly.

Anger flashed in Scully's eyes. "No, not him. He's   
a . . . a . . . that rat -- "

"Watch those naughty words, Mommy," Mulder   
teased. When she flashed a glare in his directions   
he held up his hands in surrender. "The man was   
just doing his job, Scully."

"The Nuremburg Defense, Mulder? How lame!"   
she growled with a huff. "No, I don't trust him."

"Then who?" Skinner asked impatiently.

"Do you want to call Doggett?" Mulder offered.

She shook her head. "No, I don't think we could get   
him up to speed fast enough and besides, he would   
never believe half of what we know. No."

"Well, I don't think Joe and Mary C. would be much   
help," Mulder said through gritted teeth. "They   
aren't trained and I don't want to put them in   
danger."

"Scully, I know you don't like Peter Kallenbrunner.   
Hell, I don't like him, either. But he did help me in   
Los Angeles. And I think he's come to understand   
what his role was in that trial. I think he regrets his   
actions. For the record, he believes what you said   
on the witness stand, at least he does now."

"You trust him, Walter?" she asked. "You trust him   
with my babies lives?" Her hard expression and   
dark eyes warned him to tread carefully.

"Yes, Dana. Yes, I do. I think he can help us."

She nodded once and licked her lips. "OK. Call   
him. We need him here by tomorrow."

Mulder showed Skinner where the phone was in the   
kitchen and he quickly placed the call. In a few   
minutes, he was back. "He got a flight, he'll arrive   
at Helena airport at 11 tomorrow."

"I'll pick him up," Mulder said. "You stay here with   
Scully."

"You sure?" Skinner asked.

"I know these roads better than you, Walt. I'll get   
there faster and be back faster," Mulder said with a   
thin smile.

"Walter, have you talked to m-my mom?" Scully   
asked, her voice cracking a bit under the stress.

Walter sat down near Scully and took her hand. "I   
have. We talk from time to time. We went together   
to Arlington Cemetery to, um, well -- "

"When? What day?" Scully asked.

"May 19, the anniversary, well, it's what has been   
put on the stones," Skinner explained with some   
embarrassment.

"The day the twins were born," Scully said with a   
sigh.

"She knows, Scully," Skinner told her. "She called   
me, just a day ago. She had a dream and you and   
Mulder were holding the babies. She knows you're   
safe."

"I want to call her so badly," Scully said, tears   
running down her cheeks. "I miss her so much."

Mulder pulled his partner back against him again.   
"You can, Scully. You can call her. Just as soon as   
this is all over."

 

Hale (Mulder) Household  
9:15 am

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with   
you?" Scully asked, biting her bottom lip. She had   
been hovering around Mulder all morning, when   
she wasn't taking care of the kids or forcing more   
food down Skinner's throat. He saw it as a defense   
mechanism, so Mulder was willing to forgive and   
forget, but he knew they needed to talk.

"Take a walk with me," he said suddenly, grabbing   
her hand and leading her to the front door.

"The kids," she reminded him.

"We aren't going far. Meg is with the girls and I   
think Uncle Walter has Will under control."

Scully snickered at that. "More like the other way   
around," she whispered, so as not to be overheard   
by the big man in the living room, squatting on the   
floor playing Legos with the small boy.

"We're just going outside for a moment, Walter. I   
won't be far," she said loud enough to be heard over   
the growling sounds William was making as he   
showed off his latest creation: a bright red   
dinosaur.

"We're fine, Dana," Skinner called back, not   
bothering to look up as he tried to disconnect two   
blocks that seemed to be permanently locked   
together.

The sunshine greeted them warmly as they stepped   
off the porch. The air was full of the scent of   
freshly cut wood and the off-putting aroma of paint   
thinner and other construction site smells. They   
could hear the men shouting to each other from the   
work going on at the back of the house. Mulder   
pulled her along until they were walking through   
the trees to the right of the mowed front lawn.   
There was a little wash back there that turned into a   
creek in the spring rains. It still had a trickle of   
water in it. 

"Mulder, I don't want to go far," she warned.

"I can still see the house," he told her. Then he   
pulled her into an embrace. "Now, tell me all about   
it."

She breathed in and sighed. "I just don't like you   
going to the airport to pick up that . . . that . . ."

"His name is Kallenbrunner," Mulder reminded her   
with twinkling eyes.

"I was trying to come up with a suitable four-letter   
word and none were coming to mind," she retorted.

He laughed and hugged her harder. "If there is one   
thing I'm sure of, it's my ability to handle   
Kallenbrunner."

She pushed against him so she could see his face.   
"It never occurred to you that this could be an   
elaborate set up?"

He frowned. "Skinner would never -- "

She put her finger to his lips to interrupt him and   
allow her to explain. "No, Walter would never do   
that. But if Walter is being manipulated . . .   
Mulder, if this was some plot to find us, to find you,   
wouldn't it make the most sense to use someone we   
trust to carry out the deed?"

He thought about that for a moment. "I just don't   
think -- "

"Well, at least that hasn't changed," she huffed and   
broke from his arms to reach down and pick up   
pebbles from the edge of the stream. There wasn't   
enough water to skip stones as she wanted, but they   
did make a satisfying 'plop' as she tossed them one   
by one into the little pool by her feet.

"Hey, I don't think I deserved that," he said crossly.   
"I have been thinking."

"Mulder, you run head long into every dangerous   
situation you come across!" 

He looked at her in silent frustration and finally   
reached down to pick up some of the water-  
smoothed stones. His 'plops' were louder because   
they carried more force than hers. "The last two   
years -- "

"The last two years _began_ because you had to   
single-handedly infiltrate Mt. Weather," she   
reminded him. "And for what? A date. A date that   
may or may not lead to the invasion of alien   
colonizers."

"Oh, so now we get to the real issue," he growled.   
"Scully, I thought you believed me. Remember the   
night in Roswell?"

She turned to him, her eyes shining with tears. "I   
will never forget the night we spent in Roswell. But   
Mulder, don't you see? If they take you, if they kill   
you as they most certainly will do this time, how am   
I supposed to go on?"

"If William and the girls are in danger, how am I   
supposed to sit by and let something happen to   
them?" he asked softly, pulling her to him again.   
They just stood there, holding each other for several   
heartbeats. "You need to stay here with the kids. I   
could take Walter, but I want you to have the   
manpower. I really don't think I'll be in danger. I   
think Kallenbrunner is just as scared as we are right   
now. He was an unwitting participant in the trial,   
Scully. He had no idea what was going on."

"He could have stopped it," she said, looking up to   
capture his gaze. "He was a former prosecutor. He   
knew what they were doing was wrong."

"He was a pawn," Mulder reminded her. 

She nodded, silently. He knew she wasn't   
completely convinced, but was forced into a corner.   
She never liked being forced anywhere. "You have   
your weapons?" she asked tersely.

"I got up early this morning and cleaned them." He   
pulled up the leg of his Dockers so she could see his   
ankle holster and turned, pulling up his short-  
sleeved polo to show her the holster on his belt.

"Think you remember how to use them?" she asked,   
but her tone was lighter now.

"Oh, I can fire them all right. Now, actually hitting   
a target -- well, that was always a question, wasn't   
it?"

She fought the smile that threatened to break out.   
"You'll call me, several times along the way," she   
intoned.

"Fifteen minute updates. Sheez, not even Kersh   
was this anal," he teased. At her sour expression, he   
cocked his head. "Yes, I will call you along the   
way. And we won't stop for anything -- black   
helicopters, tanks, rocket grenade launchers on the   
side of the road, Celebrity Skins centerfold   
hitchhikers -- "

She rolled her eyes. "I really don't think you'll have   
to worry about that last one," she said, crossing her   
arms and heading back to the house.

"Hey, you have to admit, it's the prefect cover!" he   
called after her.

She was waiting for him next to the car. She ran   
her hand along the roof of the black Ford Explorer.

"It's still got some speed, Scully," he reminded her. 

"I know. So do you. Just remember that," she   
reminded him. She reached up on tiptoe to kiss him   
soundly on the lips. "Be safe, be careful. I love   
you."

"I'll call. I love you, too," he told her, hugged her   
once more and got into the car. She went up to the   
porch and stood, not waving, just standing there,   
already waiting for his return. He watched her in   
the rearview mirror until he turned the corner.

Helena Regional Airport  
10:45 am

Peter Kallenbrunner didn't know what to expect   
when he got off the plane. Skinner had been   
cryptic on the phone, just saying that he needed   
back up on the case they'd been working together.   
Kallenbrunner wasn't a field agent. He spent all of   
his days in the office, looking over requests for   
warrants, writing administrative orders, preparing   
briefs for the Department of Justice lawyers who   
normally took over prosecution of FBI cases. In   
short, he was totally unprepared to back up a field   
agent and scared out of his mind when he stepped   
from the hot tarmac into the cool air of the Helena   
Regional Airport's one multi-functioning terminal   
building. That's when he came face to face with his   
worst nightmare.

Fox Mulder.

A thousand thoughts scrambled and swirled through   
Kallenbrunner's mind. Mulder was a convicted   
killer. Mulder had escaped Death Row. Mulder   
was very possibly armed and dangerous. So why   
was Mulder standing there in Dockers and a polo, in   
public, in a crowd of people, looking like he was   
coming to pick up a family member for a vacation   
in the clean, mountain air?

"Agent Kallenbrunner, it's been a while," Mulder   
greeted him with outstretched hand. "Do you have   
checked baggage?"

Peter fought to find his bearings. "I-I-I, uh, no. I   
just have . . ." Meekly he lifted his briefcase up for   
inspection.

"Ah, the kind of man who brings a knife to a gun   
fight," Mulder joked and as he noticed the other   
man pale at his words, he dropped his head and   
chuckled. "I'm kidding, Kallenbrunner. I'm not the   
enemy here."

"Where's Skinner?" Kallenbrunner finally found the   
voice to ask.

"Back at our house, with Scully. I didn't want to   
leave her and the kids alone and Skinner thought it   
best if I picked you up because I know the area."

"Kids?" Kallenbrunner was still having a difficult   
time getting up to speed.

"Our son, William. I think he was mentioned in the   
trial," Mulder explained casually. "And twin girls,   
six weeks old."

While they talked, they'd left the confines of the   
terminal building and were now approaching a   
black SUV parked in the lot. Kallenbrunner   
grabbed Mulder's arm and spun the man around to   
face him.

"It was a set up, a lie! She didn't put the boy up for   
adoption. You had the kid secreted somewhere,   
waiting for your escape. Her testimony was staged!   
What else was a lie? All of it?" he demanded.

Mulder sighed heavily and shook off   
Kallenbrunner's arm. He waited while other people   
walked passed them to their cars. "This isn't the   
place to get into this."

"Where is the place?" Kallenbrunner asked   
defiantly, crossing his arms.

"In the car, maybe," Mulder offered, unlocking the   
driver side door. Reluctantly, Kallenbrunner got in   
on the passenger side.

Hale Household  
11:00 am

Skinner looked up at Scully, watching her as she   
spoke on the phone. She looked relieved when she   
hung up. 

"Was that Mulder?"

"Yes," she said and let a small smile play across her   
face. "The flight was on time, they're on the way   
back. It should take them about an hour."

"Good," Skinner acknowledged. 

Meg Hawthorne came into the room and smiled   
shyly at Skinner before going to stand next to   
Scully. "The girls are bathed and changed and I just   
put them down for a nap. Can I help you make   
lunch?"

"Meg, how does your mother get along without   
you?" Scully asked affectionately as she swiped a   
lock of honey blonde hair behind the girl's ear. 

"Oh, she says I only work this hard for other   
people," Meg said happily, going to the refrigerator   
to pull out meat and cheese. "Is it all right if I take   
off in a few minutes? A friend of mine called this   
morning and said the pool is open, so we're going to   
go swimming."

"That should be fine, Meg. You've been a big   
help."

"Will Mr. Hale and his friend be back for lunch?   
His other friend, I mean," Meg corrected with a   
quick, nervous glance back at Skinner. 

"Yes, there should be four adults and then Will.   
Where is he?" Scully asked, looking around. "Oh,   
darn, he better not be bothering the workmen again.   
I should go find him."

"Dana, you work on lunch. I'll find the little guy,"   
Skinner offered, glad for a chance to move around.   
In truth, he was as nervous as Scully and would be   
until Mulder and Kallenbrunner arrived.

"Thanks, Walter," Scully said, and went back to   
making sandwiches with Meg.

Skinner looked downstairs, and then upstairs,   
finally finding the boy sitting in the hallway outside   
his sisters' nursery, playing with cars. 

"Hey, William, your mom's looking for you," he   
said, gathering up the cars in his large hands and   
helped William rise to his feet. "Let's go downstairs   
to the kitchen and let the babies sleep."

William frowned and looked back at the partially   
closed door to the nursery. After a tug on his hand,   
he followed Skinner down the stairs.

Outside, over where the newest part of the house   
was coming into place, one of the men looked up at   
the window with the pink ruffled curtains fluttering   
in the breeze. "I need to run back to the shop and   
get the other 'saws-all', Mike. This one just started   
smokin'."

"Shit, what else can go wrong today? Sure, Chuck.   
Just hurry. We want to get the plywood up today so   
we can put the windows in tomorrow," the foreman   
answered. 

Chuck nodded and started to walk around the front   
of the house. A breeze caught his long brown hair   
and threatened to blow it off the back of his neck.   
Carefully, he adjusted his hat, ensuring that the   
three bumps between his shoulders would continue   
to be hidden from view.

The Road between Helena and Mt. Airy  
11:30 am

"So you're saying that these, what, these men who   
are disappearing are hybrids, they aren't human?"   
Kallenbrunner asked, not bothering to hide his   
disbelief.

"Scully can tell you more, she's the expert in the   
area. But yes, they are hybrids, created to ensure   
the alien colonization that our government is hiding   
from the populace. The date for colonization is just   
8 years away."

"And with this knowledge, you're sitting quietly in   
western Montana, raising kids -- that's absurd!"

"What can we do about it?" Mulder growled. "We   
were there when one of the major players was   
eliminated. Two, if you count Rohrer, who was   
movin' pretty good for a dead man the last time we   
saw him," he added with a sneer. "But you're little   
part in this drama guaranteed that we had no choice   
but to lay low, to get out of the game."

"Look, at the trial, I was -- "

"Doing your job, yeah, that's what I told Scully. I   
have to thank you. You did a hellava job. Bringing   
up our child like he was a tabloid headline,   
hammering on her how she'd given him up for   
adoption. Ripping her to shreds on that witness   
stand! If we weren't in such desperate need of   
manpower, I'd stop this car and stomp the shit out of   
you, you son of a bitch," Mulder roared.

Kallenbrunner swallowed and stared out the   
passenger side window. "I'd feel the same way, if I   
were in your shoes," he said quietly. "And I know   
it's a little late, and not worth much, but I am sorry.   
Not just for the things I said, but for my part in this.   
I thought I was doing the right thing, I believed in   
my superiors."

Mulder digested that for a moment before speaking.   
"And now?"

Kallenbrunner continued to stare at the incredible   
mountain scenery. "Now, I don't know what to   
believe. But my gut tells me to trust you on this."

Mulder nodded. "For what it's worth, I accept your   
apology."

"Good," Kallenbrunner said, turning to look at the   
former defendant. "Now, explain to me about that   
green goo stuff."

Mulder glanced at his watch and the surrounding   
landmarks. "I better give you the TV Guide   
Highlights version. We're almost home."

Hale household  
12:10 pm

Mulder pulled into the driveway, and stopped the   
engine. He frowned, looking at the house. The   
construction crew wasn't working, but it occurred to   
him it was probably lunch hour. Even so, the men   
had usually taken lunch in the shade of the big trees   
in the front of the house, away from the work site.

"Is everything all right?" Kallenbrunner asked as he   
exited the car.

"Yeah, fine," Mulder replied absently. Even as he   
spoke, he unclipped his holster and pulled out his   
gun, keeping it low by his leg.

He wanted to call out, but at the same time, he   
couldn't overcome the feeling that something was   
wrong. Carefully, he opened the screen door and   
entered the house, allowing Kallenbrunner in before   
stopping the door and closing it just as silently. He   
heard noises coming from the kitchen.

"Where is the shop?" It was Skinner and he   
sounded pissed.

"J-j-just up the road in Mt. Airy. Not more than ten   
minutes drive," came a very nervous male voice.

"And this guy took off how long ago?" It was   
Skinner's interrogator's voice; Mulder would have   
recognized it anywhere. He broke into a trot and   
skidded to a stop when he reached the kitchen door.

Scully was standing, holding William close with   
tears streaming down her face. The man Skinner   
was questioning sat on a chair, white as a sheet.   
Skinner was as angry as Mulder could ever   
remember seeing him. The older man's head jerked   
up when he heard Mulder enter. Mulder found   
himself facing Skinner's aimed weapon until the   
recognition hit and Skinner lowered the gun. He   
turned his attention back to the witness and   
continued his questions.

"How long, how long has he been gone?"

"Twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes," the man   
stumbled over the words. 

"How long has he been on your crew?"

"He just came on a couple of days ago. But he had   
references! We checked him out. He was bonded,"   
the man explained and turned pleading eyes toward   
Scully. "I'm sorry, ma'ma, I'm so sorry."

"What happened?" Mulder whispered in a hoarse   
voice. Scully realized he was in the room and   
launched into his arms, William caught in the   
middle of their embrace. 

"The girls. One of the men took the girls," she   
sobbed.

"When?"

"Just a few minutes ago. A truck is gone."

"No, we would have passed them on the road.   
Scully, they're still here."

"Mulder, the trucks are four-wheel drive, he could   
have taken them cross country."

"No, we would see the tracks. He's on foot, he just   
wants us to think he took the truck."

"Where would he go?" Scully demanded, her voice   
raw from crying.

Mulder thought for a moment, his eyes coming to   
rest on the view out the back screen door. "The   
mountain. He could hide them there, get away   
when we're all gone looking for the truck. I bet we   
find the truck up there, too, hidden."

"Then we go look. Mulder, we have to find them,"   
she said, wiping at her eyes.

"Mommy?" Will asked, patting her cheek.

"Buddy, not now," Mulder said, patting his back.

"Mommy, when can I wake up?" William asked,   
ignoring his father.

Scully's face threatened to break again, but she bit   
her lip and brushed the hair off her son's forehead.   
"I wish we could all wake up, sweetie."

Kallenbrunner and Skinner interrogated the rest of   
the crew. None of them knew the new man or much   
about him. Finally, Skinner told the men they could   
go.

Mulder was pacing the kitchen, staring out the back   
door. "He's got them up there, Scully. I know it,"   
he growled, chewing on his lip until a drop of blood   
showed in the corner.

"Then we go look," she said, handing William to   
Skinner.

"What? No, wait, you have to stay here," Skinner   
objected. "I'll go with Mulder."

Scully's entire expression froze and she glanced   
down at William. "Will, pick up your cars and take   
them into the living room for a moment. Mr.   
Kallenbrunner will go with you." The three men   
exchanged glances and Mulder dropped his gaze.   
He knew there was a storm brewing and just hoped   
to ride it out.

Kallenbrunner smiled at the boy. "C'mon, William.   
Show me your other toys." The two left the room   
quickly. As soon as they were out of sight, Scully   
turned on Skinner.

"If you for one minute think I am going to stay   
behind while you two go search for my daughters,   
you are in for a rude awakening," she hissed, her   
eyes on fire. "Have you lost any memory you had   
of me? Do you honestly think I've been that   
domesticated?" 

Skinner had the good grace to flinch at that   
comment.

"Now, we are wasting precious time. If you want to   
help us, stay here with William!"

"Scully," Mulder interrupted meekly. "I think I'd   
rather have Skinner with us. Kallenbrunner can   
watch Will."

She glared at him for a moment, just for his   
impertinence. Their eyes met and she searched his.   
He knew she was asking if they could trust the   
former prosecutor. He also knew that she would   
trust his judgment of the man. He nodded his head   
once. 

"OK. Walter, tell Kallenbrunner he's to stay here   
and protect my son." Her eyes told him what would   
happen to the man if anything were to happen to the   
child. She turned to Mulder. "I want everyone   
armed. You know where my gun is. Go get it. I'll   
go get the flashlights. We'll head out the back and   
take the trail up the mountain."

Peter Kallenbrunner sat on the floor, looking at the   
small boy playing with his cars and trucks. The kid   
wasn't much different from his own son at that age.   
Mike was 13 now and was into comic books and,   
heaven forbid, girls. But it was easy to remember   
the time when he would sit on the floor and play   
with toy cars for hours.

The former prosecutor-turned-agent was so intent   
on the little boy that the attack was completely   
unexpected. One minute there was pain, right along   
the back of his neck where his head met his spine   
and then nothing, total blackness.

William looked up at the sound and his eyes grew   
wide. He started to scramble backward, looking for   
anyone to run to. But a big hand reached down and   
latched onto his arm in a firm but not painful grip.

"Come with me," said the voice that William would   
never forget.

 

Hale Household  
12:35 pm

"I want my mommy!" William cried as the large   
man picked him up and cradled him in his arms.

"I'm taking you to her," came the deep voiced reply.

"Why did you hurt Mr. Peter?" William asked,   
sniffing loudly and twisting to see over the man's   
shoulder. Kallenbrunner hadn't moved since he'd   
been hit. William knew his mom could make the   
man better, but his mom wasn't there.

"He would have been hurt. He's safer here."

William turned back around and looked up at the   
man holding him. "Who are you?" he asked,   
wiping his nose with his tee shirt since he knew his   
mom wasn't around to holler at him.

"I'm a friend."

William searched the man's eyes and recognized   
something there. The little boy smiled.

On the Trail up the Mountain

They hadn't spoken since they'd left the landscaped   
area of the backyard. Mulder was in the lead,   
Scully right behind him, Skinner bringing up the   
rear. Scully was searching the right of the trail,   
Mulder the left. Scully stopped and pointed to   
something about ten yards off the path. A rusted   
pick up with the construction company's name on   
the side was sitting empty. They circled the vehicle   
and Mulder wordlessly pointed to a flat tire on the   
driver's side rear wheel. 

"So he's on foot," Skinner said with relief.

"The mountain is riddled with old mine shafts and   
caves," Mulder said, his voice tense. "It's going to   
be hard to find him.

"So let's get going," Scully impatiently hissed. 

Skinner looked over at her and gave her a grim   
smile. She'd fooled him the day before, looking so   
much like any young mother. He'd forgotten that   
she was as battle-tested as her partner -- as Skinner   
himself, for that matter. 

Mulder was already a few yards up the path.

Hale Household

The man let William down on the ground and was   
holding his hand gently. "We have to hurry. If you   
get tired, I'll carry you," he told the boy.

"Did you take my baby sisters?" William asked. It   
was a long way up to see the man's face and the   
small boy's neck was beginning to hurt for the   
trying.

"No. Someone very bad took them. He thinks you   
and your sisters can hurt him."

William looked up again, amazed. "They're just   
babies. They can't hurt you. 'Less they grab your   
hair. That hurts my mom," he said confidently.   
"Sometimes, when Meggie forgets to cut their nails,   
they can scratch," he added, showing a healing   
scratch only an inch long on his arm.

"They can hurt him, they can kill him and his kind.   
As can you," the man said in the same   
expressionless voice he'd been using since he'd first   
spoken to the child.

"Me?" William asked, incredulous. "My mom   
would get real mad at me. She doesn't like my dad   
to even talk about hunting squirrels!"

"You are special, William. You and your sisters.   
You are the hope of your world."

William just looked at the man, not sure what he   
was talking about. "Are we gonna find my mom?"

"Soon, William. Very soon."

The mountainside

The three stopped at a point where the trail   
branched off. Mulder glanced over at Scully and   
saw the determined look on her face. How was she   
managing to continue, he wondered. All he wanted   
to do was curl into a ball and hope the end would   
come soon. He'd lost their daughters! He never   
should have left them, never should have gone to   
the airport. He should have been there. A million   
thoughts were careening through his mind. Then,   
he felt it. A small, warm hand was slipping into his   
larger one. He looked down and saw her blue eyes   
giving him a grim smile.

"We'll find them, Mulder. We just have to hurry."

He wanted to pull her into a hug, kiss her long and   
hard for understanding, for knowing what he   
needed, but there wasn't time. 

"Which way?" Skinner was still there, Mulder had   
almost forgotten there were three of them on the   
search.

"He's in the caves," Mulder said shakily, nodding to   
the trail that headed to the left.

"He could have gone up," Scully suggested, looking   
toward the peak of the Old Man.

"No, he wants to hide them until dark. Then he'll   
sneak them out. He may be waiting for others,"   
Mulder reasoned. 

Scully closed her eyes. "He could call to them, I   
suppose. I have no idea how they can communicate   
with one another."

"Then we better hurry," Skinner interjected and   
headed off down the trail to the left.

"Mulder, you didn't do this," Scully said, although   
he no longer needed to hear the words.

"I know," he admitted. 

"We will find them," she said firmly.

"I just hope we're not too late," he choked out.

She tilted her chin up, squeezed his hand and pulled   
him along after her. They had to hurry to catch up   
to Skinner.

Several yards behind

"Why?" William asked as the two of them hiked   
steadily up the trail. The bounty hunter looked   
down at the boy and frowned. 

"Why did that man take my baby sisters?" William   
repeated.

"He wanted to lure your parents away." At   
William's confused look, the man realized he was   
dealing with an immature intelligence. "He wanted   
to trick them, lead them to where he can try and hurt   
them."

"Like the bad guys in the movies?"

"Yes, like bad guys," the hunter concluded.   
"Without your parents, you won't grow up to be   
who you are supposed to be."

"I'm tried," William decided. Tired and a little   
afraid. But he knew they had to hurry.

"I'll carry you," said the hunter. With William in   
his arms, they made better time.

Inside the mountain

Skinner was having a hard time keeping up, the   
ceiling of the cave was too low and both he and   
Mulder had to bend over. Scully was in the lead   
and there was no slowing her down.

They'd come in this cave by chance. There had   
been no footprints, but the ground outside was   
primarily crushed rock and wouldn't have revealed   
any. Skinner's heart was sinking. He couldn't help   
thinking that he'd been in the house, he'd been left   
behind to protect Scully and the children. He'd   
failed in that charge once before and he was just   
now beginning to live with the results. 

He was studying the floor of the cave as they ran   
when something caught his eye. 

"Hold up!" he shouted and stooped over to pick up   
the object that had glowed in the beam of his   
flashlight. His eyes lit up with he saw what he had.

"Scully, look!" He handed the small thing over to   
her and she gasped and clutched it.

"It's from Sammi," she said, turning the tiny white   
sock over to Mulder. "Meg put Sammi in her pink   
sundress." 

Mulder's flashlight glowed on the tiny pink bow   
that was stitched to the lacy ruffle on the top of the   
baby's sock. "They came this way," he said   
confidently. He handed the sock back to Scully, but   
only have brushing it against his cheek. "We're on   
the right path."

"Do you know this cave?" Skinner asked hopefully.

"Some of it. We passed that part a long time ago.   
Will and I found it hunting mushrooms. But we   
never went this far," Mulder admitted. 

"So we don't know what's ahead?" Skinner saw that   
he'd only voiced what the other two had already   
realized.

"We go as fast as we can, but let me lead," Mulder   
said evenly. Scully shot him a look, but upon   
seeing his steady gaze she nodded and moved aside   
to allow him in front. "Keep checking out the   
ground, see if we find anything else."

"This could be bait," Skinner said. When there was   
no response, he knew they'd already thought along   
those lines.

"Let's get moving," Mulder said gruffly and headed   
off again.

Further along the cave

The twins, for their small age, were amazingly   
quiet. The thing that had once been a man looked   
down at them and scowled. Two sets of china blue   
eyes stared back at him. It almost looked as if they   
were thinking, planning. He was fearful of them.   
He wanted to destroy them, but not yet. That would   
be against orders. 

He stumbled and almost dropped the twin dressed in   
pink. The twin dressed in green reached out a   
chubby hand and grasped her sister's dress. If the   
thing now known as Chuck let himself believe he   
could almost say they were communicating, looking   
out for one another. But in the deep recesses of his   
new brain, he remembered that babies as young as   
these weren't capable of higher forms of   
communication and were completely centered on   
self -- their own hunger and comfort.

Why were they growing so heavy? It was taking   
more and more of his strength to carry them, but   
they had been so light when he'd picked them up   
from their matching cribs. He'd been assured his   
strength was unending, that it was more than   
enough to carry out his mission. So why was he   
stumbling with every other footstep and his arms   
felt like lead as he held the tiny infants? The babies   
weren't even squirming, another oddity he would   
have recalled if he'd been able to focus his attention   
on the girls and not on his own sapping strength.   
But he had to keep going. He'd mapped out the   
location days before even joining the construction   
crew. Just a few more minutes and they would be   
in the spot -- the perfect spot for an ambush.

At the Hale Household.

"Dana, Ellery?" Mary C. stood on the porch   
looking in the screen door. The house had a few   
scattered lights on, but otherwise seemed empty.   
Meg's car, or rather Joe's old beat up Civic they'd   
given her, was not in the driveway, but the Hales'   
car was. The workmen were gone, but it was   
nearing 3:00 and that usually meant the end of the   
day for most crews starting at 7 am. Still, where   
could everyone be?

"Dana, it's me, MC. I brought the labels for the   
church picnic. Hey, is anybody home?" Maybe   
they were all in the back, playing in Ellery's new   
'Yankee Stadium-West,' as Joe had dubbed the   
makeshift diamond. "Are you out back?" she   
called, starting to step off the porch. Just then, she   
heard a groan coming from the open living room   
window. 

Hurrying to the window, she peered in. A man,   
from what she could see, was lying on the floor and   
he groaned again. No one else seemed to be   
around.

"Dana, I'm coming in!" she announced loudly and   
rattled the door with enough force to jiggle the lock   
and open it. In a second she was at the man's side.

He had a huge lump on the back of his head and   
small trickle of blood ran down his neck.

"Easy, easy does it," she murmured, as she looked   
him over, trying to see if he had other injuries. He   
was dressed in a suit and his hair was neatly cut. As   
he became more and more aware of his   
surroundings he sat up, startled.

"Where's the boy?" he demanded and reached for   
his gun that was holstered on his belt. 

Mary C.'s eyes flew wide and she scooted back,   
holding her hands up in surrender. "What boy?   
William? I don't know; I'm trying to find Dana and   
Ellery."

Kallenbrunner looked at the woman, who appeared   
harmless so he lowered his weapon. "They're   
looking for the girls, a construction worker took   
them. I was watching William. Someone hit me   
and took him."

"Oh god," Mary C moaned. "We have to call the   
sheriff."

Kallenbrunner rubbed the back of his head and   
winced when he hit the sore spot. "I think that   
might be a good idea."

At the mouth of the Cave

"What's your name?" The question came as a   
surprise to the large man carrying the little boy, but   
he reminded himself how exceptional the child was.   
Still the question itself was not an easy one to   
answer and not particularly critical to the task he   
had before him.

"Just call me 'Friend'." 

The boy seemed satisfied with that answer. He'd   
finally flung his little arms around Friend's neck,   
making it easier to carry him. But after they'd gone   
a few yards into the darkened cave, the child   
stiffened.

"What is wrong?" Friend asked.

"It's dark," William replied, as if that was all the   
explanation needed.

Friend shifted the child and searched through a   
pocket of his jacket, coming up with a long thin   
flashlight. He flicked it on one handed and William   
smiled in its beam.

"Better?" The boy nodded enthusiastically. After a   
few more yards, though, he started to squirm in   
Friend's arms. 

"William, not now."

"Put me down. Please." The last word was added   
almost as an afterthought, a remembrance of a not   
too distant reprimand.

"We have to hurry," Friend answered impatiently.

"Please. I can run," William promised.

With a worried expression, the big man placed the   
child on the floor. Immediately, William started   
picking up small rocks near the walls of the caves.

"William, we have to hurry," Friend reminded him.

"Jus' a minute," the child retorted and grabbed   
another handful of pebbles before grabbing Friend's   
large hand. "OK, c'mon!" the child demanded, as if   
Friend were the one causing the hold up.

In the cave

The passageway opened up to a cavern about the   
size of a living room. There were boulders and   
stalagmites scattered about, perfect for hiding   
behind. The entity that had been Chuck stumbled   
and dropped behind one of the boulders, almost   
losing the twin in green to the floor. He shifted and   
leaned against the cold stone, panting for breath.   
What was wrong with him?

The babies looked at him, almost as if they were   
studying him. Neither of the twins had made a   
sound all the time they'd been on the run. Now,   
they looked at him owlishly, blinking in tandem.   
He glanced down at them impatiently. He wanted   
to be done with this. He should just crush them as   
he waited for the others. But that was against his   
programming. They were to be studied, like the   
other boy. Only after anyone who might come after   
them had been killed. 

Along the passageway

Mulder came to a fork in the passage and stopped.   
He turned immediately to Scully.

"Left," she said confidently.

"I think right," Mulder said, pulling on his bottom   
lip.

"No time to think. You two go left, I'll go right,"   
Skinner said, pulling out his flashlight and calmly   
pushing past the two parents to the passage on the   
right.

"Once an AD . . .," Mulder muttered and Scully   
gave him a ghost of a smile. She grabbed his hand   
for a quick squeeze before they start off down the   
passageway again.

They didn't hear the footsteps behind them as   
William and his new Friend come to the same fork.   
Without a thought, William pulled Friend into the   
passageway on the right.

Skinner hadn't gone far when the passageway   
opened up. He flashed the light around the large   
cavern. The boulders seemed to dance in the path   
of his beam. He wiped sweat off his forehead, even   
though the cave was a cool 62 degrees, all the   
running and fear for the babies had left him   
sweating. He heard a sound, off in the cavern. One   
of the infants started to whimper and was followed   
immediately by the other one.

Skinner bit his lip, traded the flashlight for his   
service weapon, holding the flashlight just above   
the gun so that he was sweeping his target area with   
the beam. The sound of the babies' cries was   
unnerving and worse yet the curved walls of the   
cavern caused an unnatural echo. He wasn't sure   
from where the sound was coming. Slowly,   
deliberating every footstep, he approached the   
center of the cavern.

From his left, there was movement, sudden,   
menacing. He spun and brought up his weapon,   
only to have it and his flashlight knocked from his   
hands. There were hands on his neck and he could   
no longer breathe, his windpipe was being crushed .   
. .

In an instant, the crushing stopped and Skinner felt   
himself lifted off his feet and tossed across the room   
like a rag doll. As he blinked several times, slowly   
erasing the black spots before his eyes, he could see   
that his flashlight had landed upright against one of   
the boulders. The beam shot straight up and   
illuminated the whole room. Just to his right now,   
two men were locked in a struggle. Much to his   
surprise, a small hand was helping him sit up. It   
was William.

After assuring that Skinner was all right, William   
scurried away, behind another boulder. Skinner   
looked frantically for his weapon, finally spying it   
on the ground just a few feet from where the two   
were still locked in a deadly battle. Hands were at   
throats, eyes were bulging on both men. The   
flashlight wasn't powerful, it cast large shadows and   
the room was more gloom than light so the battle   
took on a surreal look, as if in an old black and   
white movie. The babies were crying and Skinner   
rolled to his knees, trying to home in on their   
voices. He could hear bones cracking loudly and it   
appeared one of the combatants had the upper hand   
and would soon be victorious. He wasn't sure he   
was happy with that possible outcome.

Out from the shadows, William darted once again,   
one hand stuffed in his pockets. Skinner grabbed   
for the boy, but William danced around him   
gracefully, running right up to the two warriors.   
Skinner called out to him, but the boy ignored him.   
William pulled out a handful of pebbles, throwing   
them at the man who appeared to be winning.

That was all it took to turn the battle. As the one   
fighter scrubbed at his face, writhing in pain, the   
other brought his locked fists up and landed a   
shuddering blow to the head. The first combatant's   
head snapped back and he fell to his knees. A   
second blow brought him to the floor where he fell   
into a fit before disintegrating into steel gray dust.

Skinner swallowed, rubbing his throat. The victor   
turned to the small boy and smiled. 

"Thank you," he said, bowing slightly to the boy. 

"You're welcome," William said politely.

"William?" Skinner asked, trying to get to his feet.   
The victor of the battle towered over him, and   
Skinner looked up with apprehension.

"It's OK Uncle Walter. This is Friend," William   
said casually, helping Skinner get to his feet.

"Thank you," Skinner said with a curt nod.

"Here you are!" William cried as he looked behind   
another boulder. Skinner and Friend walked around   
the pile of dust that had been the supersoldier to see   
where William where had found the babies.

Friend picked up each child in one hand and   
Skinner held his breath. Then Friend carefully   
handed both twins to Skinner. "They look   
unharmed." The babies stopped crying instantly   
and looked up at Skinner.

"They're fine," William replied, stroking Sammi's   
bare foot. "Sammi lost a sock. Mom's gonna be   
mad!" the little boy warned, shaking his head in   
dismay.

After all the tension of the last few weeks, it was   
more than Skinner could bear. What started out as a   
chuckle turned almost instantly into a knee   
weakening, full body guffaw. He almost dropped   
one of the twins, but Friend snatched the baby just   
in time. That was enough to bring Skinner slowly   
back to his senses. He leaned against a rock,   
cradling the infants. 

Before he had a chance to speak, Mulder was at the   
arch to the passageway, gun drawn on Friend.

"Step away from my children," Mulder growled,   
releasing the safety with one flip of his finger.

William threw himself in front of Friend. "No,   
Daddy! Don't hurt him!"

"William, come to Mommy!" Scully ordered when   
she took his place beside Mulder. "Please, sweetie,   
come to Mommy," she pleaded.

"No! Daddy can't hurt my Friend!" William   
insisted.

"He's not your friend, Will," Mulder ground out,   
never taking his eyes off his prey. "Now go to your   
mother."

William looked at his parents and then up at Friend.   
He turned back to his father. "No."

Skinner juggled each baby to a more secure   
position, wondering how Scully and Mulder had   
made it look so easy the night before. He walked   
slowly over and handed the girls back to their   
mother. Then he reached up and put his hand on   
Mulder's outstretched arm, lowering the gun.

"Will's right, Mulder. He saved me. He saved all   
of us."

"The bad man wanted to take us. Just like my   
dream, Daddy," William explained. Now that his   
father was no long threatening his friend, William   
rushed forward and threw his arms around Mulder's   
legs tightly. "Friend helped me. He didn't hurt us.   
'Cept, Peter."

"Kallenbrunner?" Skinner spun and shot a menacing   
look at Friend.

"I temporarily disabled him," Friend replied coolly.

"He hit him on the head. Mommy, you have to go   
fix him. I'll get the band-aids!" William cried and   
started out of the cavern into the passageway.   
Mulder reached out and grabbed the boy by the   
shirttail, stopping his progress. 

"We'll all go together," Mulder intoned. Will   
looked contrite and nodded, taking his father's   
outstretched hand.

When they came out into the fresh air, the sun was   
setting, throwing the surrounding woods into deep   
shadows. Mulder had Missy in one arm, his other   
arm around Scully who was cradling Sammi.   
William was holding tight to Skinner's hand, but   
occasionally would reach over and take the hand of   
his new friend. Friend stopped and William pulled   
on Skinner's hand to alert him.

"It's time for me to leave you," Friend said as he   
bent low to speak directly to William.

"Are you gonna come back?" Will asked.

For the first time since he'd arrived, Friend smiled   
faintly. "If you need me, I will be there."

Scully stepped over to the man, put a free hand on   
his arm. "Who are you? Why did you help us?"

"I was sent to help you. There are others like me.   
We will always be watching." He reached toward   
her and gently pulled at the cross hanging from her   
neck. His smile returned for a moment as he looked   
into her eyes. He then reached under his collar and   
pulled out a tiny silver colored chain. On the end   
was a charm of several multicolored loops,   
interlocked. "We also believe," he said.

"The colonization. It's set for eight years. Will it   
happen?" Mulder asked.

Friend looked him in the eye. "Not if we can help   
it."

"What can we do, how can we prevent it?" Skinner   
asked.

"That is not your concern. Trust me when I tell you   
that we will not allow it to happen."

"So what are we supposed to do now?" Mulder   
asked.

"Love each other," Friend said quietly. In the blink   
of an eye, he was gone, right before their eyes.

No one moved for several minutes. Skinner was   
beginning to wonder if the others were even   
breathing. Suddenly, one of the twins let out a   
high-pitched squeal, followed immediately by the   
other. Scully looked over at her partner. "They're   
starving. Let's get home."

Mulder nodded. Skinner automatically picked up   
William and the three adults carried the three   
children back to the house.

As they approached the structure, Scully stopped   
short. The house was in an uproar. Several sheriffs'   
deputies were searching the backyard and two   
approached them, hands on holstered weapons.   
"Identify yourselves, please," one of the deputies   
asked with barely veiled intent to fire laced through   
his calm demeanor.

"I'm Ellery Hale, this is my wife Dana and our   
children. This is Special Agent Walter Skinner with   
the FBI," Mulder said calmly, his movements slow   
and measured to show no sign of threat.

"It's all right, Deputy! Those are the victims,"   
called out Peter Kallenbrunner, coming down the   
steps of the back porch. He reached the group and   
vigorously shook Skinner's hand. "I was certain   
we'd find you dead," he said, then dropped his gaze   
in contrition when he realized he'd spoken the   
words in front of William.

"My friend killed the bad guy!" William announced   
proudly. Glances were exchanged between Mulder,   
Scully and Skinner and Scully spoke up.

"William, you've had a big day -- " She was   
interrupted by a squeal from the back porch.

"Oh my god, you're safe! Oh, thank God, thank   
God!" Mary C. came rushing down the steps and   
swept William in her arms, kissing his head, before   
turning to kiss both the babies. "Oh, I was so   
worried! I got here and Agent Coleman was on the   
floor -- "

"_Kallenbrunner_" Peter corrected with a slight roll   
of his eyes.

" -- and we called the sheriff. They searched the   
house, we couldn't find anything. The agent said   
one of the construction workers took the babies and   
someone took William and I was terrified -- "

"MC, we're fine," Scully assured their friend.   
"Would you mind taking Will up to the bathroom   
and give him a quick bath. He's filthy from running   
through the caves. I need to feed the girls   
someplace quiet. Ellery, Walter, I'll let you handle   
the nice deputies." Scully and Mary C. beat a fast   
exit into the house.

"Should we be taking the kids to the hospital to   
have them checked out?" one of the deputies asked.

"No," Kallenbrunner said, shaking his head. "They   
appear fine and they're in good hands now. Let's   
take this inside so these gentlemen can make a   
statement. But remember what I told the sheriff,   
this family is in the Witness Protection Program and   
there will be some questions they aren't at liberty to   
answer."

Mulder shot Kallenbrunner a grateful look. Skinner   
gave him a nod in appreciation for his quick   
thinking.

Later that night, after the children were tucked in, as   
well as the two houseguests, Mulder lay on their   
bed on his back, hands locked behind his head, deep   
in thought.

"I'm exhausted," Scully said tiredly as she crawled   
into bed next to her partner. "Hey, plan on getting   
under the covers?"

He looked over at her with a befuddled expression   
and only acknowledged her question when she   
pulled on the blankets under his back. "Oh, yeah,"   
he said, rolling over to allow her to pull the bedding   
down and then helping tug it in place. Almost   
instantly, his hands were again behind his head and   
he was back to staring at the ceiling.

Scully turned off the bed table lamp and plunged   
the room into darkness. It had taken Scully some   
time to get used to the pitch-blackness that was   
night in the mountains. Having spent the better part   
of her life in medium to large cities, the absence of   
light pollution was a difficult adjustment. Mulder   
once told her he only got used to it when he was   
living with Gibson Praise in a trailer in the middle   
of the New Mexico desert. Finally, after two years,   
the darkness had become comforting to Scully.   
When there was a full moon, the light was almost   
too bright. She remembered how the twins were   
most likely conceived on a night with a full moon.

She lay there in the darkness, studying her partner   
in his contemplative state. She knew what he was   
thinking about. It had been in the back of her mind   
all evening. Through the commotion, the police   
statements, she'd thought of little else. Even while   
the deputies were traipsing over her flower and   
vegetable gardens looking for possible footprints to   
a man that had been rendered a pile of carbonized   
shavings in a cavern in the mountain, she'd asked   
herself the question a thousand times. Now she   
wanted his thoughts on the matter.

"Mulder, do you think it's over?"

He lay there a moment and just when she was ready   
to ask the question a second time, he rolled on his   
hip and drew her toward him. "I have no reason   
and very little evidence to believe it's over, Scully."   
She tensed at his words and her heart fell. "But I   
do."

She looked at him, just making out his eyes in the   
gloom.

"I do believe it's over," he repeated, speaking   
distinctly.

"You believe Friend was sent to help us?" she   
asked.

"I believe that there is something going on out there   
that we have very little knowledge of. I don't know   
if we're even ready to look beyond the veil, as it   
were. But I also think there are forces at work that   
we do understand, in a rudimentary way and those   
forces are working on our behalf."

She smiled at him. "Is that an agnostic's   
explanation of God?" she teased.

He smiled back at her. "I haven't been an agnostic   
for quite some time, I'll have you know. I've seen   
too many miracles to doubt the existence of a higher   
power. I don't know if the only way to find it is   
weekly attendance at Mass or life as a hermit. I just   
know that you've given me what faith I have and it's   
in that light that I can believe we are finally safe."

"I believe it, too," she said. She laid her hand on his   
shoulder, her leg thrown over his leg. Their   
foreheads touching, they fell into a deep and restful   
sleep.

The Hale Household  
the next morning

It seemed a little odd, sitting around the table eating   
pancakes, but Walter Skinner welcomed the feeling   
of normalcy it gave. Kallenbrunner chatted with   
William about his lego dinosaurs, Mulder dabbed   
maple syrup on Missy's lips when Scully wasn't   
watching and Walter sat happily cradling Samantha   
in his arms. It was all so peaceful and quiet.

"Walter, I think your cell phone is ringing," Scully   
said, breaking the spell. 

Skinner looked up, confused. 

"Remember, you were almost out of battery. You   
put it on my charger in the living room."

He nodded and got up, placing Sammi in her   
mother's arms. As he made his way into the living   
room, Skinner almost resented the intrusion of the   
phone. He wasn't ready to leave this place and go   
back to the way things were.

"Skinner," he said gruffly.

"Walter? Walter, this is Kim. How are you? I was   
beginning to get worried again."

He relaxed at the sound of her voice. "Kim, I'm   
sorry, I've been so busy. I'm fine. I have a lot to   
tell you. How are things going out there?"

"That's what I'm calling about. Walter, the Director   
has been looking for you all yesterday. Seems   
there's been some sort of hearing on your demotion.   
He needs to talk to you immediately."

This was it, he thought. He was being fired. Over   
the phone, no less. "Kim, can you put me into his   
office?"

"Sure, hang on."

Back in the kitchen

"So there's no mention of the trial anywhere?"   
Scully asked again as she placed Sammi in her   
infant seat near Mulder.

"Nothing. No mention of the trial, the conviction or   
the sentencing," Kallenbrunner assured her. "And I   
checked the military databases as much as I could.   
I have some friends in the JAG office at Miramar.   
They came up with nothing, too."

"So if the trial never happened -- " Mulder started.

" -- you were never found guilty," Scully finished.   
She chewed on her lip for a minute as she flipped   
pancakes on the griddle. 

"I'm a free man," Mulder said in a whisper.

"You were never anything but a free man. I'm not   
even sure if the trial was other than a hoax, and   
excuse to -- " Kallenbrunner stopped when he   
glanced over at William, who was listening intently   
to the adults' conversation. " -- eliminate certain   
problems," he said cryptically.

Mulder snorted at being labeled a 'problem', but   
understood the tact Kallenbrunner was using to   
spare his son. "Then we could go back home," he   
said quietly.

"Well, there is the matter of being dead. At least   
that's how your disappearance was handled. When   
you didn't surface with Agents Doggett and Reyes   
and they both testified that they last saw you with   
helicopters firing on your vehicle . . . All of that   
could be overturned, of course, with proper   
documentation."

Walter Skinner reappeared in the doorway, looking   
shaken, but extremely happy. "I've been   
reinstated," he said simply.

Scully was the first to give him a congratulatory   
hug. "That's great news, Walter. Back to being an   
AD, it must feel wonderful. But what happened?"

He shook his head as he sat down and Scully   
dropped a plate of pancakes in front of him. "The   
Director didn't give me any details. Just said that   
OPR had reviewed my demotion and found some of   
the testimony and evidence collected at the time   
was invalid. Then he asked me if I wanted my old   
title back. Of course, I said yes."

"I guess that means the FBI is finally rid of those   
who were fighting against us," Mulder said   
thoughtfully.

"Our friend was very busy," Kallenbrunner said   
softly. 

"Mulder, I hope you don't mind," Skinner   
interrupted everyone's silence. "I spoke briefly on   
your behalf."

Mulder's eyes narrowed but before he could speak,   
Skinner jumped in. "I simply said that there might   
be some evidence that you were not killed in the   
desert. I didn't give him any details. Basically, I   
was paving the way. If you want to come back to   
your old lives, you should have that option. It's the   
least I could do." He looked over at the two young   
people. Mulder was avoiding everyone's looks,   
even Scully's.

"Look, if what Will's Friend said was correct, there   
is not longer a threat. But there are still things that   
go unexplained, still cases that need your expertise.   
All I'm saying is that if you want to come back, I'll   
do everything in my power to make that possible.   
You can come back to DC; Maggie can see the kids   
whenever she wants. It will be as if the last three   
years never happened."

Mulder looked down at his sleeping daughters and   
back up at his former boss. "I need to put the girls   
down," he said abruptly. Picking up both infant   
seats, he hurried up the stairs.

"Dana, I'm sorry if I spoke out of turn," Skinner   
apologized sadly.

"No, Walter, what you did was very thoughtful. We   
just have a lot to think about right now."

She heard his footsteps on the stairs, but didn't   
follow him out the front door. She chatted with   
Skinner and Kallenbrunner and decided to give   
Mulder some time. But she vowed to herself that if   
he didn't reappear in an hour, she would look for   
him.

Mulder hadn't intended to go running, but found his   
feet in a steady rhythm on his old path. It helped a   
little. The sun was out, the day was warm, but this   
path ran near and through the trees, so the shade   
helped cool him, along with the soft summer breeze.   
He was trying hard not to think, not to let himself   
imagine all the doors that were suddenly popping   
open after being closed to them for so long. He ran   
right past them the first time, but when they   
appeared again, he had to slow down and stop.

"Hey, guys," he said, as if it were perfectly natural   
to see three friends who had been dead for two   
years lounging beside the side of a dirt running   
path.

"Mulder, you're lookin' good," Langly said with a   
smug smile.

"You took our advice," Byers said with a slight tilt   
of his head.

"'Bout damn time you came to your senses,"   
Frohike added. "Oh, by the way, the girls are the   
spitting image of Scully. God does answer   
prayers," he said with a wink.

Mulder bowed his head to accept the good-natured   
abuse but raised his eyes to his soulful companions.   
"We have the opportunity to go back," he said   
quietly. 

"Mulder, look at all you have right now. You have   
a family, a woman who adores you, three kids who   
need you," Byers said, ticking the points off on the   
ends of his fingers. "Do you really want to screw   
with that?"

"Scully wants to see her mom," Mulder interjected,   
toeing at the dirt.

"I don't see where seeing Mrs. Scully and you guys   
finally having a normal life are mutually exclusive,"   
Frohike intoned.

"This isn't really us. We aren't the Hales. My name   
isn't Ellery," Mulder pointed out.

"Yes it is. As much as it was ever Fox Mulder,"   
Frohike retorted. "Mulder, you gave up everything   
in that old life. You deserve this life. You deserve   
to be happy. Take what you deserve. Grab hold of   
it and don't let go."

"They have a point." Mulder startled when he heard   
Scully's voice so close behind him. He spun and   
she was standing there, smiling. "Good to see you   
guys again," she said to the apparitions.

"Dana, you look truly lovely," Frohike said with a   
sigh.

"What he said," Langly added.

"It's good to see you again, Dana. And the kids are   
beautiful, but then how could they be otherwise?"

"Thank you, John. We're pretty proud of them."

"Mulder, all we're saying is that you have a good   
thing now. Don't blow it. The threat is over, the   
aliens have other things to worry about -- each other   
\-- and you can have this life," Frohike said   
emphatically.

"But what about the Truth?" Mulder asked. 

"We've seen The Truth, Mulder. We know exactly   
where it is. The Truth . . . is in here, my friend."   
Frohike stepped forward, lightly touching Mulder's   
chest. "And here," he said, pointing to Scully.   
"That's all the truth you need to know."

"If we don't go back, how will we see your mom?"   
Mulder asked, his eyes glistening with tears.

Scully put her hand on her partner's arm. "Maybe   
there's another way."

When they made it back to the house, Mary C. was   
sitting in the kitchen, eyeing the two men across   
from her. From the look in her eye, Scully figured   
they were both toast if either of them moved an   
inch. Mary C. was tapping her finger on the   
wooden tabletop and giving them her best 'I'm the   
mother of five boys, don't mess with me' look.   
Skinner and Kallenbrunner appeared suitable   
nervous.

"MC, we just went out for a walk," Scully said,   
noting that MC had a cup of coffee in front of her   
already.

"I brought by the envelopes for the labels I left   
yesterday," Mary C. said evenly.

"Oh, yeah. In all the commotion, I almost forgot   
about the church picnic."

Mary C. flashed her a look that said she had to be   
out of her mind to forget such an important event,   
but she said nothing. 

"Walter, Peter, did you get a chance to meet Mary   
C. Hawthorne?"

Kallenbrunner nodded meekly, Skinner just shook   
his head.

"MC, this is our old boss, Assistant Director Walter   
Skinner. Special Agent Peter Kallenbrunner was . .   
." Scully stopped, hesitant to get into how they had   
crossed path with the former prosecutor.

"We worked closely on a trial once," Kallenbrunner   
supplied.

Mary C. frowned. "So you really were FBI agents,"   
she said slowly.

"What we told you when Ellery was in the hospital   
is absolutely the truth, MC," Scully said, sitting   
down next to her friend. "All of it."

"Joe just figured you were telling us that because   
you were in the Witness Protection Program, that   
Ellery was an accountant for the Sopranos or   
something," MC said with a shake of her head. "So   
if these two have shown up on your doorstep, what   
does that mean?"

Scully looked over at Skinner for a moment. "It   
means we have options we didn't have before. I'm   
not sure what it means yet. I know we've got some   
decisions to make."

"Let us know if you need help moving," MC said in   
a choked voice and stood up quickly, leaving the   
room on almost a dead run. Scully caught her by   
the door.

"MC, wait, please," Scully called out. "Please,   
wait."

She stopped with her hand on the screen door and   
turned to her friend. "Dana, I don't mean to rain on   
your parade, really. It's just, well, we're gonna miss   
you so much," MC said, tears streaking her cheeks.

Scully sniffed back tears of her own, but stepped   
forward, taking MC into a hug. "Who says we're   
going anywhere?"

"But your old life, you can have it back now. I   
don't know much about it, but it meant something to   
you. And your families, they're all back east   
somewhere. You'll want to be closer to them,   
especially with Will and the girls."

Scully pushed back so she could look her friend in   
the eye. "My brother lives, or at least he was living,   
in San Diego. My other brother lives in whatever   
port he's assigned. My mom is used to traveling to   
see her grandkids. As for Ellery, we're all the   
family he has."

"You mean Mulder," MC said as she wiped at her   
cheeks. "You called him Ellery."

Scully chuckled. "I think, given a chance, he'd   
prefer to be called Ellery. He never really liked his   
name."

That night, after dinner, Mulder watched as Scully   
dialed a number on the phone. Skinner was playing   
with Will in the living room, Kallenbrunner was on   
a flight back to LA. It was just the two of them in   
the kitchen. He knew the minute the other end of   
the line picked up.

"Hello, Mom?"

Epilogue

Helena Airport  
July 3, 2004  
11 am

William was climbing the metal rail that cordoned   
off the ticket counters. Mulder was chewing   
absently on a few stray sunflower seeds he brought   
in from the car. Scully was pushing the twins in   
their stroller, back and forth, back and forth. With   
the exception of the children, the two adults looked   
more like they were waiting for their turn at the   
dentist than greeting a beloved family member.

Maggie Scully had been overjoyed to hear from her   
daughter. She was even more pleased to hear that   
her dream was accurate, and that William was back   
with his parents along with two baby sisters. There   
was little to cloud the overwhelming bliss or so it   
seemed until Maggie asked when they were coming   
home.

Hence the apprehension of the two partners. After   
some thought and discussion, both Mulder and   
Scully decided to decline Skinner's offer to help   
them return to their old life. Instead, they asked his   
assistance in making their new identities permanent.   
He had agreed and had been keeping them apprised   
of his progress. By the end of the summer, Mulder   
would legally be G. Ellery Hale. All that remained,   
he joked uneasily, was to make Scully legal. And   
that was another topic of dissent.

Scully argued that what they had was enough.   
Mulder fought that if they were truly getting out of   
the car, they needed to make it legal and permanent.   
All this was debated while feeding and caring for   
three children under the age of 4. They'd been   
going back and forth on the subject for almost two   
weeks and it was starting to wear on both of them.

As they were lost in thought, the first passengers   
started trickling into the main concourse. Will   
climbed to the top rail of the banister, anxiously   
searching each face as it appeared. He'd been   
studying the one photograph Scully still had of her   
mother, a snapshot taken at Will's baby shower and   
cut down to fit inside her wallet. Suddenly, the boy   
let out a war whoop.

"It's Gran'ma! I see her, it's my Gran'ma!!" he   
yelled, leaping off the railing and dodging between   
adults and pull behind luggage. Mulder had to duck   
to keep an eye on the child, but after a moment, the   
small boy had reached his destination. When   
Maggie finally appeared, she was carrying Will in   
her arms, showering him with kisses. 

"Oh, sweet William, Grandma has missed you so   
much! Look at how big you are. But you know   
what, I recognized you the minute I saw you   
coming toward me. You look just like your   
Mommy at your age. And I think I see a fair   
amount of your Daddy in that face, too," Maggie   
cooed happily. She looked over and saw her   
daughter for the first time in over two years. "Oh,   
Dana," she said with a gasp. "I promised myself I   
wasn't going to cry!" she added, but the tears were   
making a liar of her.

"Mom," Scully sobbed and threw her arms around   
her mother and son. "Oh, I've missed you so much.   
There have been so many times I just wanted to call   
you and hear your voice," she choked out through   
her tears. 

Maggie looked up and saw Mulder gazing at the   
reunion with a shy, hesitant smile. "C'mere, Fox!   
Don't think you're getting out of this!" she chided   
and reached out her arms to gather him in. Mulder   
came readily. After a minute, Maggie pulled back.   
"And who do we have here?" she asked, crouching   
down to peer into the double stroller.

"That's Missy and that's Sammi," William explained   
as he pointed to each sister in turn. "Missy's the   
quiet one. Sammi likes to eat," he confided.

"So did your Mommy," Maggie told him in a stage   
whisper that caused the boy to grin up at his mother.

"Thanks, Mom," Scully said dryly. 

"They're beautiful," Maggie said, wiping away a   
few stray tears. She caressed the cheek of each   
sleeping baby and then stood up to gaze at her   
daughter. "I was beginning to think I'd never see   
you again," she said through fresh tears.

"Oh, Mom," Scully said, crying anew and wrapping   
her mother in her arms once more.

"Daddy, why is everybody crying?" William asked,   
wide eyed and concerned.

Mulder was having a bit of difficulty speaking, and   
had to clear his throat before addressing his son.   
"We're all just really happy, buddy. It's been a long   
time since your Mommy and Grandma saw each   
other and we're just glad we're all together."

"That is absolutely right," Maggie agreed   
emphatically, ruffling the small boy's hair. "Now,   
let's stop all this blubbering and show me around. I   
don't think I've ever been to Montana."

Maggie and William talked almost all the way back   
to the house, only occasionally letting the other   
adults in the conversation. Will told his   
grandmother about his friend and his Uncle Walter   
and their other friend Agent Peter. Maggie frowned   
at some of the boy's recollections, especially the   
part where they were hunting in the caves for the   
twins. Scully bit her lip and kept silent, Mulder   
tried unsuccessfully to change the subject. Finally,   
he just assured Maggie that the matter was resolved   
and everyone was back safe and sound.

As they pulled up the drive Scully first frowned   
slightly and then broke into a big smile. Across the   
porch was a hand made sign proclaiming 'Welcome   
Grandma Maggie' with tiny hand and footprints in   
different colors decorating the surface. 

"Meggie helped us make that, Gran'ma. The   
footprints are from the babies 'coz they like to put   
their hands in their mouths," he explained seriously.

Maggie held back a chuckle and nodded at him.   
"Babies will do that, yes," she said.

As Mulder put the car in park and killed the engine,   
Maggie looked in wonder at the house.   
Construction was still proceeding, despite a few   
days delay and the new addition was finally taking   
shape. As they got out of the car, a couple and   
several red headed children all came out of the   
house and rushed toward the car.

"Mom said we have to carry the luggage, Mr. Hale,"   
one boy explained with a slight frown.

"Thanks, Jimbo. It's in the trunk here."

"Mom, I want you to meet the Hawthornes. This is   
Mary C. and her husband Joe. The tall boy is their   
son Josh, then Jimmy, Sean and the little guy is   
Stephen and this beautiful young lady is our   
mother's helper, Megan," Scully told her mother   
with a bright smile. "Everyone, this is my mother,   
Margaret Scully."

Mary C. stepped forward. "It's really a pleasure to   
meet you, Mrs. Scully."

"Oh please, call me Maggie. You have such   
beautiful children! And so many!"

"Well, I hear you raised four with a husband at sea,"   
MC said with a grin. "But then, sometimes I think   
Joe's been at sea for years," she teased.

"Hale, I'm getting grief from the woman again," Joe   
said with a fake pout and sigh.

"MC, stop giving Joe grief," Mulder recited,   
obviously the expected result to Joe's plea.

Mary C. laughed, as did Scully and Maggie. "Oh,   
c'mon. Dana, we brought fried chicken and potato   
salad. Oh, and Meg made up some PBJs for Will.   
There's iced tea and lemonade in the fridge. Call us   
if you need anything, OK?"

"Aren't you guys staying for lunch?" Mulder asked   
as they all headed for the Hawthornes' Town and   
Country.

"Hell, no! We didn't bring _that_ much food!" Joe   
exclaimed. "Besides, you guys are coming over for   
a cookout tomorrow night. We'll visit then." He   
stepped over to lean in close to Mulder. "As   
mothers-in-law go, she seems like an OK lady," he   
said in a whisper.

Mulder smiled. "She's a keeper, Joe," he replied.

Jimmy had set the luggage up in William's room,   
which would be the guest room during Maggie's   
visit. Maggie wandered through the downstairs   
with Scully, her daughter pointing out various items   
of interest with the enthusiasm of a real estate   
saleswoman. When they'd finished the tour upstairs   
in the babies' nursery, Maggie turned and looked at   
her daughter.

"This is your home," she said evenly.

Scully bit her lip, slightly flustered at her mother's   
tone. "Yes, Mom. This is our home. And when it's   
finished, it's even going to be better. Mulder will   
have an office, the kids will have their own rooms --   
"

"What I mean is, this is your _home_, Dana,"   
Maggie repeated. "When I came out here, I was   
intent on convincing you all to move back to DC,   
maybe even Baltimore if I could manage it. I   
wanted you to be close to me." Tears started to fill   
her eyes and her voice strained as she continued.   
"But I see that you have a home here. You have   
friends who love you and help you, and a lovely   
house that looks so right for you. I can't ask you to   
leave this," she said, finally letting the tears streak   
down her cheeks.

"Oh, Mom," Dana said, taking her mother in her   
arms. "We'll visit, I promise. Mulder promises,   
too. Christmas, Easter, summer vacations when   
school is out, we'll come out east. And you are   
always welcome here! Now you have the ocean   
and the mountains as vacation spots."

Maggie smiled through her tears. "Well, I always   
wanted a little retreat in the mountains."

"I hear sniffling in here. Look, I'll allow it today,   
but tomorrow, no more crying," Mulder said with a   
twinkle of mischief in his eyes. He was carrying   
both twins and Will was hanging on his leg.

"You are absolutely right, Fox, no more crying!"   
Maggie said, taking one of the babies in her arms.

"Ellery, Mom. His name is Ellery now," Dana said   
softly.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I keep forgetting. You mean you'll   
let people call you Ellery when Fox upset you so?"   
Maggie asked, her eyes gleaming with mischief   
also.

"It's not a small, furry, woodland creature. I can   
live with Ellery. Even if I would have been   
roughed up on the playground just as much growing   
up. But since I didn't go through that, I'm fine with   
it."

"I still get to call him Mulder," Dana confided only   
to her mother. "MC makes wonderful fried chicken   
and I'm sure there's enough to feed an army, so let's   
go down to the kitchen and eat."

Will tugged on his father's leg as the others started   
down the stairs. "Can we take Gran'am and show   
her the old man?" 

"After lunch, buddy," Mulder advised. "We'll show   
her everything!"

"Except the bad guy in the cave," Will nodded.

"You're right, buddy. We'll definitely skip the bad   
guy in the cave. Remember, we don't talk about   
that around your grandma."

"She'd get scared?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Mulder allowed.

"OK, Dad. It'll be our secret! I hope Meggie made   
my sam'wich. I don' like fry chicken."

Mulder sighed. What else could he expect from   
their son? The whole incident seemed to have run   
off the little boy like water on a duck's back. He   
just wondered if Skinner could arrange to keep the   
X Files on hold until Will was out of college.

the end


End file.
